


Chalk and Chainmail

by lemonsorbae



Series: Chalk and Chainmail: The Series [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-11 23:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonsorbae/pseuds/lemonsorbae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>highschool!au based off of <a href="http://destielficprompts.tumblr.com/post/41222714344/prompt-hs-au-geeky-dean-athlete-sam">this</a> prompt and written for Dean/Cas Happy Endings 2013. <br/>In which all Dean wants is for Cas to be the Solo to his Leia. (AKA trope reversal fic. Nerd!Dean, BROTP Charlie/Dean, artist!Cas and lot's and lot's of angst.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This a finished work. Please see posting schedule [here](http://castielsangelpeen.tumblr.com/post/50515068366/chalk-chainmail-posting-schedule).  
> Story beta'd by the Dean to my Cas, [literaryoblivion aka "Freckles"](http://literaryoblivion.tumblr.com)  
> Updates, deleted scenes, timestamps etc. can be found on my [tumblr](http://castielsangelpeen.tumblr.com).
> 
> *depictions of emotional abuse and anxiety disorder  
> 

 

 

 

 

There was a back-to-school excitement thrumming through the halls of Lawrence Free State High that Dean had never learned to understand. He longed for endless summers, sticky as they were, where he and his best friend Charlie could stay up all night watching every episode of Star Trek known to man and devouring as much junk food as their stomachs could possibly hold. And sure, they had spent the most recent summer doing just that, but it hadn’t been long enough. Not for Dean.

As the last day of summer had ebbed into night, Dean had stared out his window at the inky Kansas sky and sighed, willing the sun not to return. With the sun would come school, and school meant grades and teachers and curfews and homework, none of which were on Dean’s “Things That Are Awesome” list.

But despite Dean's efforts to wish away the Monday that would bring the first day back to school, it was inevitable, and so, there he was, backpack slung over one shoulder, Charlie jabbering away at his side, and swarms of his peers congregating in groups around him.

“I think today’s meeting, aside from welcoming all of our new members and tipping our hats to the old ones, should include a strict set of rules that must be followed,” Charlie said as she and Dean approached their lockers.

“Such as?”

“Well, for starters, we should discuss the reduction of LARPing in the hallways. After what happened with Andy last year, Principal Colt said he’d dispel our club immediately if we weren’t more careful. I tried to explain to him it's not our fault Andy actually thought he had Jedi Mind Powers, but he wouldn’t listen.” Charlie already had her locker open and was hanging pictures of her and Dean, her favorite comic book characters, and images of her Hunter Heroici character, Codex, to the slick metal walls. Dean scowled at the photo of him in an extravagant crown sitting crooked on his head that had been taken during the LARPing championships the year prior but didn’t ask her to remove it.

"Andy's a nut job," Dean commented with a smirk reminiscing on what the Fandom Club now fondly referred to as 'the incident.’

"Andy's on a Buffy kick as of late; he’s got the hots for Sarah Michelle Gellar, which I can’t say I blame him for, but hopefully he doesn't start thinking he's the Master and try to suck someone's blood," Charlie retorted. She looked over at Dean for a response but found his gaze trained on a locker down the way from them as he watched Castiel Milton shove a huge stack of thick course books into the small locker space. It was only the first day of school, but Castiel was notorious for cramming all summer and then showing up the first day of school having already studied for the first week of classes. When Castiel shouldered his obviously lighter messenger bag and hurried off in the direction of the auditorium for the junior orientation meeting, Dean turned his attention back to Charlie, glowering at the look of pity on her face.

"Don't." he said closing his locker with a definitive click. "Not one word."

Charlie shouldered her book bag, schooling her face into a mask of innocence. "What," she shrugged.

"Don't gimmie that crap, Bradbury, I know that look." He followed her across the shiny linoleum, falling into step with the other juniors.  

"What look?" 

"It's the same look you gave me when you used Jigglypuff to kick my ass in Super Smash."

"A) That _one_ time? Dean, please. And B) All I was going to say is: some people never change. I mean, it's been what - over five years and he still shows no remorse for ditching you? Dick move."

Inside the auditorium the walls were draped with the school colors and mascot and Dean was so not prepared for the cringe-worthy level of school spirit the orientation was bound to require.

Shouldering her way through their co-eds Charlie dragged Dean into a nearly empty row somewhere in the middle of it all and pushed him into a plush theater seat.

"He didn't ditch me," Dean countered, "he just-" But Charlie turned a quirked brow at him, daring him to defend Castiel, and he stopped. "He didn't ditch me," Dean grumbled quietly. 

Waiting for her chastising rebuttal, Dean was surprised when Charlie simply sighed and looped an arm through his murmuring a simple, "It's starting." 

 

Orientation was boring. No one understood why the school even offered a junior orientation in the first place. It wasn’t as if they were new to school or about to graduate. As far as they were concerned, it'd be another verse same as the first. Nonetheless, there they all were, listening to the junior class president, Balthazar Roché, ramble on in his better-than-you British accent about how excited he was to be back and what a great year it was going to be.

Slumping in his seat Dean leaned in close to Charlie. "Ten bucks says Junkless next to me is an alien."

"You're on." 

Looking around to confirm no teachers had their eye on him, Dean reached into his backpack and pulled out the paranormal meter he had made while he and Charlie had been deeply enthralled in the X-Files a few months back. When he turned to the student next to him, Uriel Wisdom, and scanned the other boy's arm, the meter roared to life, a shrill whine sounding through the air. Uriel turned and fixed his cold, unforgiving eyes on Dean, his expression un-amused.

"It's a sexy meter," Dean improvised harboring a laugh. "Your reading is off the charts."

Next to him, Charlie covered her mouth with the handouts they had been given and sank deep into her seat, trying to suppress the giggles that were bubbling in her throat. Dean nudged her in the side with a smile on his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Castiel a few seats down from Uriel, his blue gaze focused fiercely on Balthazar, almost as if he was doing everything in his power to ignore Dean and his antics, as usual. Dean didn't realize he was staring again until Charlie jabbed him in the ribs.

"Quit pining," she hissed.

"I'm not pining," he countered, pulling his eyes away from the other boy. "I'm just... observing."

Charlie shook her head but didn't push the issue.

 

At lunch, the Fandom Club, which had been co-founded by Dean and Charlie two years prior, regrouped to the auditorium for their first meeting of the year.

As students clambered in from the halls, some returning from last year, others new to the club, Charlie (who was the president) made it a point to greet and speak to every single one. Dean on the other hand (the slightly less enthusiastic vice president) sat near the back of the auditorium with his iPod on and his feet dangling over the seat in front of him, his scuffed Converse tapping in time to Back in Black. He wasn’t paying much attention to the students filing in for the meeting until Castiel walked in. At the sight of the boy's tell-tale sweater vest and smart black oxfords, Dean nearly leapt from his seat, yanking the earbuds out of his ears. 

"Hey-a, Cas," he blurted, walking up to his fellow class mate against his better judgement. Castiel, who was looking around with a slight look of irritated confusion on his face, turned his gaze to Dean.

"It's Castiel," he stated cooly. "You know that." And for some reason, even though the two had known each other for years, Castiel still insisted on acting like they hardly knew each other, as if they hadn't been living down the street from one another for most of their lives.

"Okay, _Castiel_ ," Dean corrected sarcastically. "You here for the meeting, or-?"

"No. I'm here to interview some of the members. I'm writing a piece for the school newspaper on the different clubs being offered this year," he explained. "But it's amusing you thought I was here for the meeting."

"Amusing how?"

"Just that you thought I'd be interested in this sort of thing," Castiel stated, waving his hand in the air at the students talking animatedly about aliens and lycanthropes and W.O.W. strategies.

Dean's eyes narrowed, and his temper flared. He'd spent years willing himself to forget about Castiel Milton and his stupid blue eyes and perpetually messy hair and move on. But he'd had a soft spot for the guy from day one and because of the masochistic optimist that he was Dean clung to the hope they'd move past their differences someday - whatever the hell those differences were - and work things out. Apparently Castiel did not share that hope. "Y'know I remember us spending an entire summer doing 'this sort of thing' every day." Dean pointed out. "What I don't remember is you being such a dick about it."  

There was a brief moment where Castiel's eyes shrouded with a sadness before glazing over in disinterest once again.

"Yes, well, I was younger then. You on the other hand appear to be exactly the same. Useless priorities and all." Castiel commented. 

Dean's chest inflated with righteous fury and he opened his mouth to put Castiel in his place, but all that came out was, " _Your_ priorities are useless." And yes it sounded lame, but deeper than the irritation that came with not being able to drum up a decent comeback was the sadness he felt that Castiel still seemed so set on pushing Dean away he'd use any range of hurtful words to do so.

"Dean," Castiel countered, sighing. "You can't possibly tell me you think this club is important. It doesn't mean anything. What do you get out of discussing non-existent character's relationships and acting out fictitious wars in ridiculous costumes? This club will get you nowhere in life. You can't obtain a scholarship for participating in such frivolous activities, and unless you plan to attend the local community college, it might do you well to think more about what will benefit your future."

"Not everything is about scholarships and college, man."

"No, only the important things are," Castiel retorted, and then he was spinning on his heel and walking in the opposite direction from which he came. Dean slumped back over to his seat and seethed as he watched Castiel ask Ronald and Jo what had made them want to be a part of the Fandom Club. He barely made eye contact with them in exchange for writing down their quotes, but Dean doubted Ronald or Jo noticed. When he felt the seat next to him shift under someone's weight he turned to find Charlie, her eyes heavy with sympathy.

"Still an ass, huh?" she questioned.

Dean huffed, "The assiest."

 :::

After his run in with Dean at lunch, Castiel was in a foul mood. He always was after talking to Dean, which is why he avoided him as completely as possible. He hated the twist in his stomach he got whenever Dean was in close vicinity and how nearly impossible it was not to get distracted by Dean’s thick eyelashes and infectious smile.

As he headed out of the auditorium, paying absolutely no attention to where he was going, he ran smack dab into a wiry, solid frame.

"I apologize," Castiel said looking up. When he saw Balthazar's ever-smirking blue eyes looking down at him, he relaxed.

"What's the matter, Cassie? You look like you've had your feathers ruffled."

"I'm fine," Castiel grumbled. "Other than the fact that I just spent my lunch hour listening to people ramble on about something called a TARDIS and debating whether or not Ewoks, which are apparently some form of small warrior bears, would make good pets."

Balthazar side-eyed him with a questioning glance as they headed down the hall to their next classes.

"I was interviewing members of the Fandom Club," Castiel supplied.

"And that's what's making you so pleasant?" Balthazar questioned with a knowing air in his tone. He and Castiel had been close friends for a long time; not much got past him anymore. "Dean's a member isn't he? Did you speak to him?" he asked casually.

There was a pause before Castiel responded, "Unfortunately."

"And?"         

"And nothing, Balthazar," Castiel replied, tone clipped. "You know how much he irritates me; I would prefer not to discuss him."        

Balthazar threw his hands up in a receding gesture. "Just asking," he muttered.        

Castiel shook his head at him, "You're never 'just asking.'"

 

* * *

 

_Summers in Kansas were always hot and sticky. That's why Dean usually opted to stay inside and veg out in front of video games and the Sci-Fi channel rather than run around with a bunch of sweaty dudes and a ball like his father urged him to on more than one occasion._

_During a typical summer, Dean and Charlie could spend hours exercising demons or hunting down shape shifters on Hunter Heroici, the online role playing game they played, or talk other friends into playing Risk with them and then ganging up on them and destroying all their armies. But, this was not a typical summer. Charlie's parents had decided to vacation in Delaware, and Sam was at their grandparent's for the weekend, so Dean was left aberrantly alone._

_“I'm bored," Dean said, sprawling himself dramatically over Mary's kitchen counter. The smell of chocolate chip cookies had brought Dean down from his bedroom, but he was disappointed to find them still in the oven upon arrival._

_"Why don't you go outside? Get some fresh air?" Mary asked, pulling the cookie sheet from the oven much to Dean's delight._

_"Too hot," Dean mumbled, half his face squished against the cool marble surface beneath him._

_Mary scooped several gooey cookies off the sheet and onto a plate before covering them with some plastic wrap. "Do you think you could bear the heat to walk these down to the new neighbors? I think they have a boy your age, maybe you can make a new friend," Mary stated, setting the plate down in front of Dean. Steam was clinging to the plastic wrap, fogging the inside._

_"I don't need new friends. I have Charlie and Sam."_

_"Maybe_ he _needs a new friend," Mary pointed out. "And maybe there will be some fresh cookies for you when you get back."_

_"Fine," Dean grumbled as he lifted himself off the counter and picked up the plate. Mary ruffled his hair and kissed the top of his head before he scampered outside. Dean headed down the street to where the new neighbors had just moved in. The house had been empty for years, but Dean figured someone new had moved in when he'd seen the upstairs bedroom light on from his own bedroom a few nights ago._

_Approaching the new family's home, Dean saw a boy around his age, maybe a year older, with dark hair bent over the trunk of a sleek, taupe Audi, rummaging through boxes. He stood up and looked at the boxes forlornly, eyebrows pulled together in deep thought._

_"Don't think too hard, your forehead will end up lookin' like Yoda if you do."_

_The boy spun around, startled by Dean's comment, and looked at Dean, his bright blue eyes taking Dean a little by surprise. "I've misplaced something," the boy explained, surveying Dean and eyeing the plate of cookies in his hands._ _  
_

_"What'd you lose?"_

_"A book."_

_"Which book?"_

_"The Odyssey."_

_Dean raised his eyebrows, "_ The Odyssey _? What are you doing reading that?"_

_"I enjoy Greek poetry," the boy said as if reading advanced poetry was normal eleven-year-old behavior. "I finished The Iliad last week, and I'd like to continue the story."_

_Dean nodded his head slowly, eyeing the boy carefully. He'd definitely not ever met another kid like this one before. "Well, my mom sent me over with cookies to welcome you guys to the neighborhood. I live in that house," Dean said pointing out his house. He handed the cookies to the other boy._

_"Please express our gratitude to your mother," the boy said, and Dean laughed because what eleven-year-old talked like that?_

_"Sure." Neither of them made a move to return to their respective afternoons but instead stood staring at one another._

_Finally, it was Dean who broke the silence. "I could help you look for your book," he said. Originally he’d had every intention of dropping off the cookies and running right back to the confines of his own home, but honestly, the kid looked lonely and Dean was itching to find out what he was all about. When Castiel tilted his head at him, Dean spluttered out, "I mean, if you want. Help- that is. If you want help. I could help you."_

_"Okay," the boy responded slowly, sizing Dean up as if trying to decide whether to trust him or not._

_"I'm Dean, by the way," Dean said, realizing they'd been speaking to one another for a good few minutes and neither of them knew the other's name._

_"Castiel," the other boy introduced quietly as if ashamed of his unique name. Dean's face brightened, a smile breaking across his mouth._

_"That's a badass name," he said. Castiel positively beamed at him._

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This a finished work. Please see posting schedule [here](http://castielsangelpeen.tumblr.com/post/50515068366/chalk-chainmail-posting-schedule).  
> Story beta'd by the Dean to my Cas, [literaryoblivion aka "Freckles"](http://literaryoblivion.tumblr.com)  
> Updates, deleted scenes, timestamps etc. can be found on my [tumblr](http://castielsangelpeen.tumblr.com).
> 
> *depictions of emotional abuse and anxiety disorder  
> 

After their less than pleasant exchange on the first day of school, Dean was all too careful about not running into Castiel again. He ignored him in the halls—which was easy enough considering Cas had never really paid him much attention in passing anyway—and made it a point to sit on the opposite side of the room in the two classes they shared. If Cas’s game was to act as if each didn’t know the other existed, then Dean could give the appearance of being on board with that. How often he thought about Castiel in his own head, however was no one's business, especially Cas'. 

Quickly enough Dean found a comfortable pattern in which to live his life: attending school, doing enough homework to keeps his parents off his back, and spending as much time as possible nerding out with Charlie on the weekends. With all the distractions Dean found it easy to stay away from Castiel.

That is, until it wasn't

 

When Dean arrived home from school his parents were waiting for him. Mary's eyes were soft with concern, John's mouth turned down with disappointment as he traced his fingers along the edges of what Dean just _knew_ was a letter from his chemistry teacher. Dean had known for a few weeks now that he was failing, but he hadn't quite found the right time to break the news to his folks. Mr. Turner, it appeared, had decided to take the matter into his own hands. 

"Oh yeah," Dean said, flashing his parents a smile. "Forgot to tell you, I'm failing chemistry."

The lecture he received was short and to the point. John and Mary were in mutual agreement Dean's privileges would be limited until his grade came up and in order to do so he'd be required to meet with a peer tutor. After school. Three times a week. So basically Dean's life was over.

 

Monday afternoon Dean found himself reluctantly seated at a small table in the school library waiting for his peer tutor to show. "This is ridiculous," he muttered under his breath, pulling out his chemistry book and a notebook. Just because he didn't understand a few stupid problems didn't mean he needed some tutor breathing down his neck. But if that's what was going to get him un-grounded then he would do his time.

His books landed with a soft thud on the table and were followed by the comic book he'd started in study hall and was eager to finish. He began flipping through the pages, scanning the pictures before delving in and was so immersed in the reveal of the Red Hood's true identity that he didn't notice a figure looming over him until the clearing of a throat grated out above him.

Dean looked up and found himself staring into those sad blue eyes he'd been doing so well to avoid as of late.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean blinked up at Castiel for a drawn out moment before responding. "Hello?" Just a handful of weeks ago Castiel was treating Dean like he was demon spawn and now suddenly he wanted to strike up a conversation?

Rolling his eyes Castiel forced himself into the chair across from Dean, back ramrod straight, hands carefully closed over the strap of his messenger bag. He looked a lot like what Dean imagined people to look like when they were taking their place in the electric chair, face grim, body rigorous with tension. "I'm here for our tutoring session." Castiel explained. Because of course he wasn't just there to chat.

"Who says I need a tutor?" Dean asked defensively, embarrassment crawling hot and rosy up his neck. Icing on the cake, as they say.

"Your name on my tutee list does. Are you saying it was a mistake?"

Dean opened his mouth to lie, but admitted defeat instead. "Okay, whatever. I'm flunking chemistry. Happy?"

"Hardly," Cas muttered, pulling his things from his bag.

Dean slumped back into his chair. "It _would_ be you," he grumbled as he tried to look anywhere but across the table. 

"I'm sorry?" Castiel asked with one eyebrow quirked and his book halfway out of his bag. 

"Nothing." And Dean hated Castiel for the way he made him feel. He hated him for tying his stomach in knots and reducing him to a mess of nerves while simultaneously giving him the burning desire to just punch something. Or someone. Someone like Castiel. 

"If you think I'm overly thrilled about spending my afternoons here with you, then you would be very incorrect," Cas informed him, his eyes tinged with annoyance. "There are other things I could be doing with my time." 

"Then why the hell are you even doing this?" Dean accused. 

"If you must know, I plan to put it on my college applications. Michael said my being helpful to others would stand out during the admissions process."

"Sounds riveting," Dean said flippantly. "You do know college is like, two years away, right? Don't you just wanna take it easy for a year until that crap actually matters?" 

"If you must know, I'm on track to graduate early. That 'crap' matters now." 

"Yeah, but you're always studying and being serious. You need to get out, loosen up, have some fun. You remember what fun feels like, Cas?"

"It's Castiel. And I participate in leisurely activities when time permits," Castiel replied coolly, opening his chemistry book. He shuffled his notes into a neat pile and folded his arms neatly on the table.

"Like what?" Dean asked, still slouched in his chair, making no move to get started. Because maybe he could get Cas to _talk to him_ talk to him. Like they used to. "Do you still draw all the time?"

Castiel looked down at his hands, and Dean's eyes followed, catching sight of Cas' black smudged nail beds as he slid his hands off the table and into his lap. "I came to assist you with your homework, Dean, not discuss my personal life with you." Castiel retorted, avoiding Dean's gaze. "May we please get started? I have homework of my own to do." When he looked up his eyes looked darker, a perpetual weariness edging their clouded navy. It was the same way his eyes had looked when they'd first met and Castiel still believed his was his father's hammer and nothing more. That darkness had faded throughout their short-lived friendship and to see it back now made Dean want to hug Cas tight until all his internal bruises faded. 

Sure the guy was a dick, but he was hurting. That much was obvious. 

With chest heavy Dean nodded, flipping open his chemistry book. "Sure," he agreed, and Cas looked a little relieved.

The next hour was spent discussing nothing other than the periodic table of elements and other crap Dean didn't understand. When their time was up, they packed their things quietly and left with nothing but the time of the next tutoring session set in place and a simple "goodbye." Cas' defeated quiet hurt worse than any of the hurtful things he'd ever said to Dean.

 :::

"Whatcha drawing, Cassie?" Balthazar asked sneaking a glance over Castiel's shoulder. Even though Cas's closest friends could hardly identify him without a sketchbook somewhere on his person, Castiel never actually shared his work with anyone. He flipped his sketchbook closed and shot a threatening glare in Balthazar's direction.

"Alright, don't get your knickers in a twist, I was just looking."

Ignoring the retort, Castiel asked, "How was practice?" He pushed up from where he'd been leaning his hip on the silver convertible Balthazar's disgustingly rich grandparents had shipped over from the UK. It had come complete with a posh Union Jack license plate, and Cas had rolled his eyes when he'd seen it but accepted rides in it nonetheless because flashy or not it was still faster than Cas' bike. 

"Practice was practice - I had balls kicked at my face for two hours and got my arse slapped at the end of a good run; how was tutoring? Anyone I know that you can share juicy details with me about?" Balthazar unlocked the car doors with a click of his key fob and opened his door, sliding into the driver's seat. 

Already in the seat next to him, Castiel remained stubbornly quiet. Balthazar glanced over at him, concerned. 

"Cassie, what's the matter?" 

"It's Dean," Castiel finally responded with a sigh, staring down at the chalk stains on his hands. 

"What's he done now?" 

"No, I mean, it's Dean. That's who I'm tutoring." 

Realization dawned in Bathazar's eyes, and he hesitated starting the car, searching Castiel's face. When Castiel said nothing, Balthazar raised his eyebrows, "And it went?" he prompted. 

"He's incorrigible, Balthazar," Castiel responded, locking his clouded blue eyes with his best friend's. "How do you think it went?" 

Balthazar's response was gentle, careful. "Do you think he bothers you so much because you still—"

"He bothers me because he's Dean Winchester." Castiel growled, exasperated. He was exhausted, could feel a stress headache forming at the base of his neck, and talking about Dean was not going to help that. 

With a sigh Balthazar finally turned on the car, easing out of his parking space and towards Castiel's home. The entire ride was silent.

 :::

Dean banged through the front door and went straight for his bedroom. Carefully locking the door behind him, he flung himself on his bed and stared up at the ceiling, the tutoring session playing over and over again mixing with old memories and making him feel all around conflicted and heavy.

He refused dinner that evening and put on a Led Zepplin tape, blaring it louder than he was allowed while pointedly trying not to remember what it was like to see Cas smile. 

***

_Castiel slid his tongue between his teeth and dragged his chalk across the textured page of his sketchbook in curving wisps. When all the strokes were finished, two brawny black wings came to life on the page. Pushing his back against the bark of the tree he was sitting against, he held the page out in front of him for examination, his eyes narrowing as he criticized every last line and movement. There was something off about the sketch, he just couldn't place what it was._

_As he scrutinized his work, a shadow fell over him, and he looked up to find smirking green eyes and a nose full of freckles looking down at him._

_"Hey, Cas, whatcha doing?" Dean asked squinting against the sun._

_Castiel closed his sketchbook, the image quickly forgotten, and tucked it underneath him. "Nothing," he responded._

_Dean plopped down across from Castiel and tugged at the sketchbook peeking out from beneath his leg, "Can I see it?"_

_Castiel bit at his bottom lip. He had never shown his drawings to anyone before. His sketchbook was like his journal, everything inside was clandestine to him. "It's private," he finally muttered. He looked up to study Dean's expression. Dean's eyes were a little less bright, but other than that, he didn't pry._

_"Okay," he said._

_"But, maybe someday," Castiel decided in a hurry, Dean's expression making him want to open the book right there and show him everything. "I mean, I don't really know you. But perhaps if we become better friends, then I could show you a few."_

_Dean grinned at Castiel, pleased._

_"So what're you—" Dean stopped when Castiel's eyes flew big and round as he caught a glimpse of a car pulling up from the street. When Castiel leapt to his feet, Dean stood with him and frowned when Castiel shoved his sketchbook towards him._

_"Take it, please. I'm not supposed to have it," Castiel begged, eyes wide and pleading."But, promise you won't look."_

_Dean looked down at the sketchbook Castiel was shoving at his chest and placed a hand over it as the car door opened._

_"Please, Dean, promise me," Castiel hissed._

_Dean nodded, "Okay. I promise." He seemed confused but took it just as the vexing clear of Castiel's father's throat sounded behind him. He stood at the edge of the front lawn, dressed in a tailored black suit and holding a shiny leather briefcase in his thin white grasp. He looked unhappy._

_"Father, this is Dean, he lives down the street," Castiel introduced motioning towards Dean. He kept his gaze averted downwards not looking his father in the eyes, dread coursing through him as he spoke._

_"Castiel, isn't there something productive you could be doing? You know how I feel about you wasting time." His eyes slid right past Dean as if he weren’t even there and Castiel wished he could disappear, both embarrassed of his father's cold manner and ashamed of himself for not being more prudent._

_"I apologize. Dean was just here to show me something."_

_"Do you think your mother would approve of you fraternizing with the boy down the street when you could be bettering yourself? All she wanted was for you to be a good boy, Castiel, and work hard."_

_Tears bit at Castiel's eyes. The mother he remembered and the woman his father made her out to be were not one in the same. But the guilt was there nonetheless and if it made his father happy to think Castiel agreed with him, he would act as if he did. "You're right," he said quietly, eyes still to the ground. "I'm sorry."_

_"Where are your siblings?" Castiel's father asked then as he turned and headed for the front door, "Acting out just as you are, I assume."_

_Castiel shot an apology towards Dean before following his father in the house. He offered the boy one last fleeting look before closing the door behind him._

_Surely Dean would not still want to be his friend knowing how disobedient Castiel was._

:::

_It was four days before Castiel came asking for his sketchbook._

_When Dean brought it out to him, Castiel refused the offer to come inside. "I can't stay long," he explained, "I finished my studies early, and Michael said I could get some fresh air. He'll be expecting me home soon."_

_Dean handed the sketchbook over and studied Castiel's face. He didn't look hurt on the outside; there were no visible bruises, but the way Castiel was fidgeting and avoiding Dean's eyes made Dean feel like maybe he was hurting on the inside._

_"I'm sorry I got you in trouble," Dean offered._

_"I was being disobedient, Dean," Castiel stated, and he was finally meeting Dean's gaze now. "It wasn't your fault." He looked down at his notebook and fingered some of the pages, face going shy. "Did you...?"_

_"No, I didn't look." And it was the truth. The sketchbook had sat on Dean's nightstand for three nights, and Dean had spent a good amount of time just staring at the cover, his fingers itching to thumb through the pages. But he'd promised Castiel he wouldn't look inside and so he hadn't._

_Castiel let out a little sigh of relief, his body sagging, his back falling from its usual stiff posture. "Thank you, Dean." He breathed. He looked up again to find Dean's gaze trained on him, his eyebrows pulled together in thought._

_"Can I hug you?" Dean finally asked._

_"What?"_

_"I want to give you a hug. You-" Dean stopped then, thinking about whether it'd be rude to say what was on his mind, "I just want to hug you. Because we're friends," he finished deciding it best not to tell Castiel he looked sad._

_"Okay," Castiel agreed, but he made no move to embrace Dean._

_Dean stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Castiel. He pulled him in close to his chest and hugged him with all his ten-year-old strength. Castiel stood, stiff as a board, not raising his arms to hug back while Dean hugged the life out of him. Dean didn't seem to notice or care._

_When they pulled apart, Dean grinned at Castiel, and Castiel offered a small smile back._

_"Thank you, Dean," he said. And even though he hadn't hugged back, something seemed a little more relaxed in him._

_They stood quiet for a few moments longer just studying each other and then Castiel turned and rushed down the walk way._

_"I'll see ya later, Cas!" Dean called out as he watched Castiel's retreating form. Castiel stopped, standing in the middle of the road. Dean could see the blue of his eyes even from such a far distance. Castiel’s mouth turned up in the hint of a smile once more and then he was gone._


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This a finished work. Please see posting schedule [here](http://castielsangelpeen.tumblr.com/post/50515068366/chalk-chainmail-posting-schedule).  
> Story beta'd by the Dean to my Cas, [literaryoblivion aka "Freckles"](http://literaryoblivion.tumblr.com)  
> Updates, deleted scenes, timestamps etc. can be found on my [tumblr](http://castielsangelpeen.tumblr.com).
> 
> *depictions of emotional abuse and anxiety disorder  
> 

It was Wednesday afternoon, and Dean had already been waiting for Castiel - who was typically there before Dean – for quite some time. The darkest side of him wondered if this was the day Castiel finally decided tutoring Dean was more trouble than it was worth and ditched him. Their last several weeks together hadn't exactly been easy. While Castiel was dead set on nothing more than a passing grade for Dean, Dean itched with the need to mend their broken friendship. And maybe there was a small part of him that wanted to make sure Castiel was being taken care of, too.

When Cas finally rushed into the library and threw his stuff on the table, Dean blinked up at him in surprise. His hair looked a little more wild than usual, and he looked frantic.

"I'm late, I know, I'm sorry," Castiel breathed, sitting down. "I was up late studying for the SATs, and I've been running behind ever since. My last class got out early, so I would have arrived on time, but Mrs. Mills gave me a 98% on my paper so I had to stay after and explain to her why it deserved 100%. She said the debate team is lucky to have me although I'm not sure that was meant to be a compliment." When Castiel stopped rambling he looked across the table at Dean who was listening with a puzzled expression on his face. "What?" Castiel asked.

"Oh nothing,” Dean commented, ”I just think you shared more about your life with me in five minutes than you you have in the last six years you've known me. Felt like old times again for a second.”

Castiel cleared his throat carefully and paused as if to collect himself before responding. "I merely felt you should know why I wasn't as punctual as I typically am."

Dean raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Are you sure it's not because you forgot we're not supposed to be friends?" Dean asked.

All at once the flustered, open demeanor Cas had rushed in with was gone, his walls back up, neutral expression comfortably in its place on his face. "Don't be foolish, Dean," he said flatly, as he opened his chemistry book.

Dean sighed and followed suit, but the way Castiel had spoken to him niggled at the back of his brain.

After the tutoring session, Dean offered an "I'll see you tomorrow." as he collected his things. Cas responded with a tired nod and left the library, leaving Dean thinking that maybe, somewhere underneath all that disconnected exterior was the boy he'd gotten to know so well over the short summer they'd spent together.

 

* * *

_Castiel wanted to see Dean._

_In the time since they'd began playing together, Castiel found himself becoming addicted to Dean's happy-go-lucky personality and the way he felt when he was around Dean. Dean made a lot of the hurt inside Castiel go away, and he didn't worry so often that he wasn't worth anything or that his mother was scowling down at him from Heaven like his father always implied she was. When he was around Dean, he didn't feel like he couldn't breathe and his skin didn't feel as if it were crawling._

_Things were easier with Dean. Castiel yearned for easier._ _  
_

_Today was the first day since Castiel had moved in that Dean hadn't come over to see what Castiel was up to, which is why he was now pacing outside Dean's house trying to will himself to just go to the front door and knock.  But what if Dean hadn't come because he no longer wanted to be friends? What if he found him boring or weird because Castiel never understood Dean's jokes?_

_As he began to fret over what it was that was keeping Dean away, his father's words bounced around in his head, and he began to pace more frantically. "You'll be good for nothing, Castiel, if you don't make something of yourself." his father always said. "College is your key to success, and if you want anyone to see any value in you, you must be successful." Castiel's stomach knotted itself into a pretzel at the thought that Dean may not be seeking him out because he no longer saw any value in Castiel. He'd asked his questions, learned about Castiel, and now his interest had faded._

_Castiel's chest began to feel tight, his heart hammering capriciously inside him._

_Sitting down hard on the pavement, Castiel raised his knees to his chest and began taking deep breaths like Anna would remind him to do if she were there. As he scratched at his arm, angry red marks turning up in the wake of his blunt and chalk-stained nails, he heard the grate of metal against metal above him._

_"Cas?"_

_Castiel whirled around and found Dean's head poking out of his bedroom window from the second story of the Winchester home._

_"Dean," Castiel breathed, relieved by the distraction the other boy always offered to Castiel's suffocating thoughts._

_"What are you doing down there? Why don't you come in?" Dean called down._

_Castiel hesitated, staring up at Dean. He didn't look upset with Castiel. Maybe he'd been hasty in his observations. "Would that be alright?" Castiel asked then, "If I came in?"_

_"Course! I'll come down." Dean's head disappeared from the window, and Castiel stood, brushing off his pants and straightening his shirt as he approached the front door. When Dean opened it, his grin was just as wide as ever, his eyes bright and mischievous. "Hey, Cas." He said happily, "Sorry I didn't come over; I slept in, and mom said I had to finish my chores before I could play. I'm all done now, though."_

_"Oh," Castiel replied ducking his head suddenly embarrassed for having gotten worked up over what appeared to be nothing._

_"Hey, are you okay?" Dean wondered, noticing Castiel seemed a little tightly wound. More so than usual._

_"Yes, I'm fine, Dean."_

_"Are you sure cause you look kind of scared."_

_"I was slightly worried you no longer wanted to be friends," Castiel admitted his voice small and quiet._

_Dean let out a small gasp, "Of course I still want to be friends, Cas. I told you, I was just behind today. I'm sorry I didn't come over earlier," he said again, and then, he was grabbing Castiel's wrist, pulling him to his chest and wrapping his arms around him. "Please don't be sad, Cas." Dean murmured into Castiel's dark locks, "I don't like it when you're sad."_

_Castiel sighed and relaxed, allowing himself to melt into the hug. He slung his arms loosely around Dean's waist and buried his nose in Dean's neck. It was the most affection he'd received from anyone in a long while. Since his mother's death, no one hugged him like this anymore and he didn't ask for it, not knowing how, but it felt good and he pulled as much of Dean's warmth into himself as he could._

_Dean gently pulled Castiel away, keeping his hands firmly on the other boy's shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "I'll always want to be your friend okay, Cas?" he asked seriously._

_Castiel nodded, "Okay, Dean." He was relieved to hear the words but not able to fully believe them. Nobody would want him if he didn't do well in life, his father had made sure Castiel knew that. Even Dean would leave him at some point, he was sure of it._

 

* * *

 

Dean eased the Impala out of the school parking lot and onto the road, slipping his AC/DC cassette tape into the deck and settling into his seat. He hadn't gotten far when Castiel's familiar form, all long limbs and tailored clothes, came into view. Dean debated with himself for all of two seconds about whether or not to ask the kid if he wanted a ride. 

"Hey, Cas!" Dean said leaning over to shout out the passenger side window. Castiel stopped and looked at Dean, pulling an earbud from his ear. "You walking home?"

Castiel blinked at Dean like his question was so brainless, it didn't even deserve a response.

"You wanna ride?"

"I'm quite capable of walking, thank you."

Dean rolled his eyes. "C'mon you live too far away to be walking, just let me give you a ride. I won't bother you, I promise."

Castiel hesitated and Dean could almost see the internal struggle going on, but a beat later, the other teen was crossing the sidewalk to get in to the Impala. Dean smiled as Cas opened the door and set his messenger bag on the floor before climbing in. When he'd buckled his seatbelt, Dean pulled away from the curb and headed towards home.

They were in the car all of two minutes before Castiel stated, "If you must know, Anna is out of town on a student government retreat and she was elected to drive, Michael is working late tonight, my father is out of town, and Balthazar's soccer practice is going over today. I didn't feel like waiting around for him, so that's why I'm walking home."

Dean looked over at him, one eyebrow raised. "I didn't ask," he pointed out.

"Yes, but you were thinking it," Castiel replied, his gaze carefully out on the road before them. Dean smiled, shaking his head. It was true. He had been willing himself not to ask how Cas had ended up walking.

Trying to take advantage of Cas's sharing mood, Dean asked casually, "So, you and Balthazar, is that like, a thing?" It was something he'd wondered for a long time, actually. Usually one was not seen without the other, and while that was par for the course for the whole group of friends Cas had—they walked around school in their muted colors with their snobbish noses stuck in the air like a freaking academically inclined child army—it seemed he and Balthazar were especially close.

"Dean," Cas said in a warning tone.

"You started this conversation," Dean pointed out in his defense.

Castiel sighed, "No, Balthazar and I are not together in the sense that you are inquiring about. He is, however, one of my closest friends. My friends can sometimes be bothersome. I find Zachariah a bit pompous, and Uriel, while quite comical, is incredibly closed minded. Balthazar and I share a lot of common interests, and he is easy to talk to. That's why we are together so often."

"Uriel? Comical?"

"He's the funniest one in our friend group. Ask anyone."

Dean shook his head. That kid never even so much as cracked a smile.

"So you and Balthazar aren't a thing. Do you have a... thing with anyone else?"

"Dean," another warning.

"C'mon, Cas," Dean said, "we haven't talked to each other in years other than small stuff at school, I'm just trying to catch up on your life. We used to be friends. Don’t you remember?"

"Yes, I remember," Castiel grumbled. His eyes darkened at the thought, and he looked down at his hands, fiddling with his iPod. Finally, he looked up. He did not look at Dean though, keeping his eyes on the road as he stated, "No. I am not dating anyone. There have been no other boys who've held my interest, and I don't have much time for that sort of thing anyway."

Dean wondered what 'other' boys meant, other than whom? But he didn't ask instead going for, "So you're into guys then?"

"No more questions, Dean, please," Castiel requested with an exasperated sigh.

"Right, sorry. I said I wouldn't bother you."

Castiel nodded and the cab fell momentarily silent until Dean stated, "I'm into guys." He looked over at Castiel whose eyes were fixed out the window, "I mean, girls, too. But yeah. Guys. Anyone really I guess so long as they're awesome and hot."

"Yes, Dean, I, along with the entire student body, am well aware of your bisexuality. You don't keep your conquests much of a secret. Pamela, Lisa, Aaron, Donnie, Jo—" Castiel trailed off.

Dean didn't miss the fact that Castiel seemed to have been paying attention over the years, but he knew to point that out would be a death sentence to any sort of progress he'd made over the past few minutes. "Bisexual, huh? I never really put a name to it, I guess." Dean offered, "I always just kinda thought I was what I was."

"It's merely an observation. Obviously only you can determine how you feel about your own sexuality and what or what not to label it." Castiel pointed out. "For example I consider myself gay and possibly on the asexual spectrum however I _am_ only in high school and don't have one experience to compare to another so really who's to say I'm not just a hetero sex maniac waiting to happen?"  

Dean immediately felt warmth blossom in his cheeks. The idea of Castiel being any kind of sex maniac was, well it was something. "Where'd you learn all these fancy terms, Cas? I mean, I knew you were smart, but this is like, another level."

"Castiel, please," Cas asked but some of the usual persistence was missing from his tone. "And I know because I researched it. I was... confused after—" But Castiel didn't finish. He shook his head and snapped his mouth shut turning to look out the window again, and Dean knew that the conversation was over. 

They sat mostly in silence for the rest of the way home, Castiel offering a curt "thank you" on his way out when Dean pulled in to the Milton's driveway.

When Dean got home he skirted around Mary and Sam in the kitchen, trying his best to avoid getting in too deep a conversation with either of them before heading up to his room and flopping himself down on his bed. As he stared out his window at the Milton's house down the street, he recalled his and Castiel's earlier conversation and contemplated it for the rest of the evening.

 :::

As the moon rose in the sky casting pale streams of light in through Castiel's bedroom window, he glared, irritated, at his sketch book. He'd been working in it all evening, but the sketch was all wrong. The nose was too curved, the lips not full enough, the eyes not nearly as exuberant as they should be.          

Flipping to the next page in a frustrated huff, Castiel outlined a set of familiar wings, a grave face, and big sad eyes. It was the same lost angel he always retreated to when his sketches weren't cooperating, a figure that had been in his dreams since he was young, one that carried potential happiness but never was. Sometimes the angel was fierce, other times submissive, but he was always lost.

Castiel stared at the drawing.

"Why are you never happy?" he asked the rough black lines on his page as he ran chalked-covered fingers over the angel. The angel stared back at him with black forlorn eyes that seemed to say, "You tell me."


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This a finished work. Please see posting schedule [here](http://castielsangelpeen.tumblr.com/post/50515068366/chalk-chainmail-posting-schedule).  
> Story beta'd by the Dean to my Cas, [literaryoblivion aka "Freckles"](http://literaryoblivion.tumblr.com)  
> Updates, deleted scenes, timestamps etc. can be found on my [tumblr](http://castielsangelpeen.tumblr.com).
> 
> *depictions of emotional abuse and anxiety disorder  
> 

When Castiel walked out his front door the next morning, he stopped in his tracks. Parked in his driveway was Dean's shiny black 1967 Chevy Impala. The windows were rolled down, and Castiel could hear music drifting out from the cab but couldn't see anyone inside. Cautiously approaching the driver's side, Castiel peered into the car. Dean was lying on his back across the front seat, air drumming along with the music, his body wiggling and jerking in time to the beat.

"Dean?" Cas asked, his eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

Dean sat bolt upright nearly knocking his forehead against the other teen's. "Cas!" he gasped, his face coloring ever so slightly.

"What are you doing here?"

"Thought you could use a ride to school. I saw Michael leaving early this morning when I dropped Sammy off for soccer, and I know Anna's still gone so...," he trailed off.

"How long have you been out here?"

"I don't know 10 minutes maybe," Dean answered with a shrug.

"And you just planned on waiting until I left my house to see if I needed a ride? You didn't think to knock?"

"Well, when you say it like that, Cas..."

Castiel shook his head and began walking away.

"Hey, c'mon!" Dean shouted leaning out his window. He watched as Castiel rounded the car and approached the passenger side door and that's when he seemed to realize that Castiel was climbing inside.

Sitting stiffly in the seat next to Dean, Castiel muttered, "Thank you for thinking of me," as Dean started the Impala and backed out of the driveway.

"I'm always thinking of you, Cas," Dean admitted, but because Castiel didn't know what to do with that statement, he did not reply.

As they approached the school, Dean looked briefly at Castiel and then back to the road. "So, did you want me to drop you off somewhere incognito so none of your friends see that you rode to school with me?" he asked.

A small smile curved Castiel's lips, but it vanished so quickly Dean thought maybe it was his imagination.

"No, Dean. Wherever you usually park will be fine. I'm sure my friends aren't standing around outside like a bunch of Greasers, waiting for my arrival."

Dean stared at Castiel, mouth agape, wheels whirring in his head trying to figure out the teen across from him. Was that a joke? Or even better, a pop culture reference? Castiel moved his lips around a small smirk and then looked away.

When Dean had pulled into the parking lot and killed the engine, Castiel thanked Dean for the ride and headed off across the parking lot. As Dean made his way up the pavement to the doors of the school, he was attacked by a flying blur of red hair and large concerned eyes.

"That wasn't Castiel Milton getting out of your car just now, was it?" Charlie asked, coming to a screeching halt in front of Dean. Her breath was heaving from her chest in deep gasps, and her cheeks were a little flushed.

"Geez, Codex," Dean said smiling sheepishly down at her.

"Don't 'Codex' me, Dean. This is serious. What are you doing?"

"I was just giving him a ride to school, Charlie, give it a rest." Dean sidestepped his friend and continued into the school, heading towards his locker. Charlie easily fell into step next to him.

"Dean, I'm concerned, okay? He was horrible to you." She paused letting that sink in before stating, "He still is."

They made it to their lockers, and Dean spun his lock entering his combination. "Han Solo wasn't exactly prince charming to Leia, but it all worked out in the end," he pointed out, pulling his first few periods’ worth of books out of his locker and dropping them into his book bag.

"So you're the princess in this situation?" Charlie asked.

Dean scowled. "No, I'm the prince. The awesome, manly prince. Who kills things and shoots guns and listens to rock music." He looked over at his friend, and found she was smiling coyly at him with an eyebrow quirked. "Shut up." Dean said flinging the door of his locker closed. 

"Okay, _Princess_. Whatever you say," she retorted.

 

The rest of the day carried on like normal. Dean and Cas didn't see each other again until biology, one of the classes they shared, and as Dean walked through the door, he merely nodded in greeting at Castiel. Cas gave a curt nod back and then turned his attention to Fate, his lab partner, as she chattered on about why she felt Brown was a better choice than Castiel's desired Oxford. As Dean slid into his seat next to Ronald, who was furiously sketching a Cyberman onto the tabletop, Castiel trained his eyes on the back of Dean's head. They hardly left that spot for the rest of the class period.

 

After school, Dean unloaded his backpack into his locker before heading to the library for his tutoring session. His grade had slowly climbed from an F to a C and was still on an upward ascent, but Dean's parents insisted Dean continue tutoring until he was at least pulling a B out of the class. Dean didn't argue much. He had found himself looking forward to the three days a week he and Cas spent an hour or so together. Even though it was mostly just talk about gaseous substances or whatever, Dean still had to admit he didn't exactly dread spending the extra time with Cas even if it was difficult at best sometimes.

When Dean got to the library, Castiel was already seated at their usual table, papers spread out across the flat surface in front of him, his pen flying across a cluttered notebook page. As Dean dropped himself into the seat across from him, Castiel held up a hand, indicating he needed Dean to wait, and continued writing. When Cas had finally finished and looked up to Dean staring at him, mouth hanging open ever so slightly, he locked eyes with Dean for the briefest of moments before looking down and shuffling his papers into a pile and brushing them off to the side.

"Apologies. I had to get it all out while it was still fresh on my brain," he explained.

"What is it?"

"Persuasive essay for Harvelle's class," Cas answered as he bent over and put his English homework in his messenger bag, exchanging it for his chemistry book. "She grades harshly. Even Jo complains about the homework."

"Oh," Dean replied.

"I thought today we could work on our homework separately, and if you come to something you don't understand, we'll go over it."

"Sure," Dean said flipping his book open to the right chapter. He pulled his notebook and pen out of his bag and looked down at the problems on his page. Words and numbers swam in front of his eyes, and he meant to make an attempt, he really did, but watching Castiel work out his problems was much more fascinating. It was ironic, really, that Castiel not talking to him would be more distracting. But Castiel's gaze trained solely on his homework rather than on Dean had him squirming for Castiel's attention. As if he could hear Dean's thoughts, Castiel looked up.

"Dean, do you have a question?" he asked, glancing down at Dean's nearly empty notebook page.

"Uh, no," he answered. Castiel nodded slowly and went back to his work. Dean hashed out a few answers to the questions in his workbook before his eyes were making their way across the table and resting on Castiel again. "So, when does Anna get back?" he asked casually. Castiel's eyes flicked up to Dean's and back down at his work.

"Tomorrow night," he replied continuing on with the problems on the page.

"What about your dad?"

"I don't know," this time he didn't even look up.

"You don't know when your dad will be back?"

"No."

"How can you not kn—" Dean started to ask but Castiel's head shot up, his eyes flashing with something Dean couldn't exactly place. Anger? Hurt? Sadness?

"I just don't, alright? He's home when he's home, and he's gone when he's gone. He's a very busy man, Dean. He doesn't have time to share with his children when he'll be around to tuck them in at night and pat them on the back when they've had a bad day," Castiel finished angrily, slumping into his chair, his homework lay forgotten on the table.

Dean studied Castiel for a few seconds before lightly laying his hand on top of Cas' across the table. "I'm sorry, Cas," he stated, his eyes swimming with genuine sympathy. Castiel looked down at their hands, and while he didn't yank his out from underneath Dean's like Dean had anticipated, he did slide it gently away from Dean's and tucked it safely in his lap.

"It's fine," he muttered. "That's how it's always been."

Dean remembered well Castiel's father almost always being gone when they were younger. He remembered how Castiel's eyes always turned sad when they'd talk about it briefly and how quiet he got whenever John was around. But Dean had hoped things had gotten better since their falling out. Apparently they hadn't. "It's not fine," Dean stated. "He's your dad. He should be there for you."

"Yes, well, he isn't so—" Castiel didn't finish. He sat staring at his chemistry homework, idly twirling his pen in his fingers.

After that, the mood turned sour. Dean couldn't focus on his work, and Castiel wasn't even bothering with his anymore. When Dean found himself re-reading the same problem for the umpteenth time, he closed his book and sighed.

"I can't focus on this right now. Want me to take you home?" he asked. Castiel, who had been staring out the window for the last several minutes, looked over at Dean.

"Yes," he answered.

They cleaned up their things and left the library, the silence between them thick and pressing.

Neither spoke to the other on the way home, and when Dean dropped Castiel off at his house, his only parting words were, "I'll arrange to ride with Balthazar tomorrow, thank you, Dean." And Dean knew it was a brush off, but he was too emotionally drained to argue.

*

A  knock sounded on the front door. When it was apparent no one else was going to answer it, Dean made his way across the house and flung the door open.

"Cas?" Dean asked in surprise and Castiel shuffled his feet a little nervously. They hadn't spoken much in the week that had passed since their last discussion about Castiel's father.

"I'm here for Sam," he stated. "Your mother said he needed some help with his Latin homework."

"Sam's studying Latin?" Dean asked before moving on to, " _You_ speak Latin?" His eyebrows were raised coloring Dean impressed.

"Since I was six. It's a family tradition."

"That's weird."

"I suppose so. It seems quite normal to me."

Dean opened the door wider to permit the other boy inside. "I'll get Sammy," he said leading Castiel into the dining room where he and Sam usually did their homework; Dean's was already out, scattered across one end of the table. He left Castiel standing there looking around and bolted up the stairs to find his brother. A few minutes later he and Sam returned, Sam with a big smile on his face.

"Hey, Castiel!" he said. "Thanks for coming to help me. Rachel said you speak Latin better than you speak English."

"I am adequate," Castiel responded.

"Adequate is better than what I'm managing, so I'm just grateful for the help."

"Since when are you taking a Latin class, Sammy?" Dean asked. He thought he knew everything there was to know about his brother, but sometimes Sam still managed to surprise him.

"Since they started offering it at the middle school. It's kind of a beta class. They're seeing how students take to it." He explained, "Jess and I thought it'd be cool to take together."

"So there _is_ a girl!" Dean shouted ignoring everything else Sam had just said, and the younger Winchester turned all sorts of red. 

"Shut up, Dean," he said dropping into his seat and pulling his Latin homework from the table. He offered Cas the seat next to him and Dean sat down across from them still wearing a satisfied smirk.

 

Things were mostly going okay for all of them. Dean was able to work on his math and English while Cas explained to Sam how to conjugate the verbs into the proper tense. But when he and Sam moved on to the pronunciation portion of the chapter, things went a little south. For Dean that is. As he sat and tried to ignore the way the dead language rolled off of Castiel's tongue like it was the only language he knew, Dean began to squirm in his seat all focus flying out the window.

"Potest placuerit vobis dirige me ad latrina? (Can you please direct me to the toilet?)" Cas asked. Sam looked at his workbook for a few seconds before responding.

"Est ad sinistram? (It's to the left.)"

"That's good," Castiel said.

"Yeah?" Sam asked. Castiel nodded.

"Latine loqueris bene. (You speak Latin well.)"

"Thanks, Cas," Sam said, a smile growing on his face. "I didn't think it'd be this hard, but it's cool. I like it."

"It is a really beautiful language," Castiel offered.

As Dean was thinking any language Castiel spoke would sound beautiful, Mary walked in.

"Hello, Castiel," she said offering him a warm smile.

He nodded in her direction, "Hello, Mrs. Winchester."

"Would you like to stay for dinner? We're having spaghetti."

"Thank you for the offer, but I should be going. Michael will be expecting me."

"I ran into him at the grocery store and asked if he minded if you stayed," Mary admitted. "You've done so much for my boys, I wanted to repay you."

"Oh," was Castiel's reply.

Thirty minutes later, Dean set an extra place at the table for Castiel, and then the Winchesters and Castiel sat down to eat together. Conversation was mostly small talk about how school was going for the boys, but Castiel didn't miss the way John's gaze kept drifting towards him across the dinner table. Finally, John spoke to him directly, pulling more garlic bread from the basket in front of him as he did so.

"So what sort of things are you interested in these days, Castiel? We used to see you here all the time when the boys were little but it's been what, five, six years since you last had dinner with us?"

Castiel shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He knew John wondered why Castiel no longer frequented their home, and Castiel was unsure as to whether Dean had ever told his family how Castiel had pushed Dean away. He doubted it, as Dean was not really one to talk about his feelings, but the way John looked at him, accusingly and contemplative, Castiel knew John gathered things had not ended well between him and Dean. Castiel cleared his throat.

"I'm mostly into my studies," he explained, his voice even and polite, "I'm working on getting into Oxford."

John let out a low whistle, "Oxford, huh? That why you never come around anymore?" When Castiel's only response was a slight nod, John pushed on, "I remember coming home from work day in and day out only to find you two arguing about Lord of the Rings or tangled up on the couch together watching Star Trek."

"Dad," Dean growled from across the table, his eyes flashing with a mixture of embarrassment and protectiveness, his cheeks flaring red. He turned pleading eyes on Mary, and she elbowed her husband in the ribs.

"John, leave the boys alone," she muttered.   

John chuckled and shoveled more spaghetti into his mouth

"So!" Sam stated loudly trying to break up the tension that was now looming at the dinner table. Dean had gone to scowling at their father while Castiel stared at his plate, pushing food around with his fork. "I have a scrimmage on Saturday for soccer. It's between the junior varsity and varsity teams," he explained piling more broccoli onto his plate. "The score doesn't matter, it's just for fun, but I've heard the varsity team takes it pretty seriously."

"My friend Balthazar is on the varsity soccer team," Castiel offered in an attempt to engage in a conversation that would have nothing to do with the way things used to be between he and Dean.

"Balthazar Roché?" Sam asked with his eyebrows raised. "I know who he is; he's amazing!"

"I've never been to a game," Castiel admitted.

"Well you should come to our scrimmage!" Sam said excitedly. "Dean's going to be there, aren't you, Dean?" he looked over to his brother with his big hazel eyes.

"Course I'm going to be there, Sammy," Dean answered. Sam looked back to Castiel, his puppy dog eyes ratcheting up to an eleven.

Castiel pushed more pasta around on his plate. "I suppose I could attend for a little while," he finally said quietly. He looked up to find Sam beaming at him.

"Great!" Sam exclaimed. "It's going to be awesome."

After that, the conversation drifted back to more normal family topics, how things were going for John down at the shop, a new recipe Mary had found in one of her cookbooks, and whether or not Grandpa Campbell was secretly some kind of closet Van Helsing. (Dean swore on his life his grandfather was living a double life; John, Mary, and Sam told him he played too much Hunter Heroici.)

 

After an apple pie dessert and helping clear the table, Castiel told the Winchesters thank you for their hospitality and gathered his things to leave. As he stepped outside and pulled in a lungful of cool Fall air, trying to steady his nerves that were still jittery from dinner, John sauntered out of the garage, a beer in hand, and approached Castiel.

"Would you like a ride home," the man asked.

Castiel eyed the beer and shook his head, "No, thank you, I prefer to walk. It's not far."

"Alright, I'll walk with you then."

Castiel's eyes flashed to John's. He was unsure of the man's purpose, but he knew John wasn't just trying to be friendly. Castiel hugged his sketchbook tightly to his chest and nodded before turning and making his way down the Winchester's walk way, John falling into step with him as he went.

"Thanks for helping our boys with their homework," John started casually as they made their way across the darkened street of the neighborhood. He took a pull from his beer and passed a glance at Castiel when he didn't immediately answer.

"I'm happy to help," the boy finally responded

"And is that all you're doing?" John wondered, his tone letting Castiel know John had been itching to question him for the past several hours, "Helping with homework?"

"I don't understand."

John stopped walking then, pivoted to face Castiel, his eyes imploring, "I mean is there something going on between you and Dean? Like when you were younger?"

Castiel opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. The bluntness of the question had his head spinning, and he suddenly felt cold and frantic. And if he was being honest with himself, he was unsure of how to answer.

"I—" was all he managed before John was cutting him off.

"Listen, Castiel," he said scrubbing a hand over his face before pushing on, "I like you. I think you're a great kid. But whatever happened between you and Dean really did something to him; he still carries it around with him, and I won't just stand back and watch him go through it again. Do you understand?"

Castiel nodded. He did understand. John was telling him, in so many words, to be there for Dean or don't but not to hover in-between, giving him the impression their relationship may be something more and then never making good on that.  "I understand, sir." He finally muttered, "I won't hurt him again."

John nodded back and resumed walking, Castiel keeping pace with him. "You know, it was hard for me, accepting his lifestyle." Castiel read between the lines to gather John was referencing Dean's sexuality. "But when I realized if I wanted to be a part of Dean's life it was something I was going to have to accept, I made a choice." Another tilt of the beer bottle against his lips and John continued talking, "Life is full of choices, Castiel. And not always the right ones are the easiest to make, but I've found they're the most rewarding."

"That's very good advice, sir." Castiel stated when John didn't continue speaking, "Thank you."

The two of them were standing in front of Castiel's home now, a pool of yellow light pouring down from the street lamp above them casting shadows over John's eyes and mouth giving him a sinister look.

"Be fair to him, Castiel," he said then, "make your choice."

Castiel ducked his head in a nod and turned for the sidewalk. As he made his way across his front yard, John called out to him, "And Castiel," Castiel turned, "if you ever need anything, you're always welcome in our home."

With the statement, some of the tension leaked from Castiel's body, and he nodded his thanks before retreating onto his porch and through his front door.

That night John's words buzzed in Castiel's head for a long time before he finally pushed them aside and forced himself to sleep.

 *

"You're coming to the scrimmage on Friday?" Balthazar asked as he closed his locker and turned to head to class.

Nodding, Cas fell into step beside him.

"Why? You never come," his friend pointed out.

"Are you objecting to my attempts at being more supportive?" Castiel questioned defensively. He should have known Balthazar would question his sudden interest in soccer.

"More supportive of whom, Cassie?" Balthazar responded giving Cas a sidelong glance. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the fact we're playing the junior varsity team and a one Sam Winchester is on that team, now would it?"

"Why would Sam matter?" Castiel asked, avoiding the implications.

"He doesn't," Balthazar answered. "But because Sam is playing, Dean will be there, yes?"

"I suppose that's a possibility."

Batlhazar sighed and stopped walking to turn and face Castiel, a hand going to his friend's shoulder. He had been hesitant to mention Dean again after Castiel had snapped at him in the car several weeks ago, but his concern for his friend overpowered Cas's possible reaction. "Listen, Cassie. You know I'm behind you 100%, whatever you do. But I remember how crushed you were." And Balthazar didn't need to elaborate; Cas knew he was referring to the summer he met Dean Winchester, spent nearly every waking hour with the boy and then ruined their friendship indefinitely. "Just don't be a numpty about this, alright?"

"When have you ever known me to be stupid?" Cas asked brushing off Balthazar's concern.  Balthazar chuckled and shook his head, throwing his arm across Castiel's shoulders and guiding him down the hall to class.

"Was that a rhetorical question?" he asked. Castiel merely smirked.

 

*

Dean and his parents were seated in the mid-section of the bleachers surrounded by some family friends (Bobby, John's partner at the mechanic shop, Ellen and Jo Harvelle, and Jess, Sam's "not-girlfriend") as well as students from the middle and high schools. The first half of the game was well underway. The junior varsity team was getting crushed, but they seemed to be having fun so no one in the stands was feeling too disappointed. During a stoppage, Dean glanced over at the entrance to the high school football field and saw Castiel, clad in a green and silver Free State High soccer jersey (which was pulled over his stylishly trendy, plaid, button down as if to say "I'm being supportive but don't push it") and looking completely and utterly uncomfortable. Dean stood halfway up and waved him over, Jess scooting across the bench to make room for him. As Cas walked over, Dean offered him a smile.

"Hey, Cas," he said, "looking good." He pointedly did not think about how adorable it was that Cas had dressed up for the game despite it not being an actual game.

"It's Balthazar's 'away' jersey," Castiel explained glancing down at his attire, "I didn't have anything in Firebird colors."

A twinge of jealousy shot through Dean at the mention of Cas wearing Balthazar's jersey, but he pushed it aside reminding himself that Castiel had confirmed nothing was going on between the two of them and simply nodded. "You do wear a lot of blue," he pointed out before he could stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

"Yes, I suppose I do," Cas replied, eyes trained on the soccer game. Dean was grateful Cas didn't make too big a deal out of the comment.

"Varsity's winning," Dean stated turning his eyes back to the game. "But only by one point and JV's putting up a good fight."

"Sam has nearly scored two goals already!" Jess offered enthusiastically, her eyes twinkling with pride.

"I apologize for missing so much of the game," Castiel said turning to look at Dean, "I—" he hesitated, "I wasn't going to come."

Dean locked his eyes with Cas's and said quietly, "Well, I'm glad you did." The two studied each other for a moment longer before the crowd was screaming, and they tore their gazes away from each other, looking back to the game. 

Dean and Cas didn't talk much the rest of the game, but they were each hyper aware of the other's presence, shoved closely together on the cool metal benches in the stadium. As the JV team pulled ahead of the Varsity team, and the night air began to grow cool, they unconsciously pushed in closer to each other, seeking warmth from one another. Their shoulders brushed together every now and then, and when Sam was driving the ball towards the net for what would be the winning shot of the game, Dean grabbed Cas's wrist in anticipation and watched the field anxiously.  His eyes were wide and his mouth hung slightly ajar. Castiel couldn't help but stare. As he was counting Dean's freckles, Sam kicked the ball, and it went flying into the net. Dean jumped out of his seat, throwing his arms above his head, screaming in victory.

Castiel did his best to hide his small smile.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This a finished work. Please see posting schedule [here](http://castielsangelpeen.tumblr.com/post/50515068366/chalk-chainmail-posting-schedule).  
> Story beta'd by the Dean to my Cas, [literaryoblivion aka "Freckles"](http://literaryoblivion.tumblr.com)  
> Updates, deleted scenes, timestamps etc. can be found on my [tumblr](http://castielsangelpeen.tumblr.com).
> 
> *depictions of emotional abuse and anxiety disorder  
> 

_Castiel had been spending every waking hour with Dean Winchester since he’d arrived in Kansas. He knew the only reason he was getting away with it was because his father had been gone, but he had never been so grateful for a non-existent father in his life. Dean was all easy smiles and happy freckles and lively green eyes, and his passion for life was contagious. Castiel had never had a friend like Dean before, and he was certain he probably never would again. Castiel knew the possibility of them no longer being friends was always out there, that Dean would someday realize Castiel was boring and serious, but for the time being, he clung to every momenty they spent together like they were his only lifeline on a sinking ship._

_"So, why'd you move here?" Dean had asked him on the first day while they searched for Castiel's missing book._

_"My father wanted us to be closer our family," Cas explained. "Most of my cousins and family friends live here, and my father is gone quite often. He wanted us to have a good support system."_

_"Why's he gone all the time?"_

_"For work," Cas replied distantly, and Dean, taking a hint, dropped the subject. After that, there were no more questions about Castiel's home life. There was simply Dean and Cas._

_A soft clink sounded against Castiel's window, and as he stood and crossed his bedroom floor, the sound came again. Throwing back his curtains, Castiel looked down and found Dean, like he knew he would, standing below his window, a handful of pebbles at his side. Castiel opened the window._

_"Hey-a Cas!" Dean shouted up to him, a big grin on his face._

_"You know we have a telephone, Dean, and a front door. You could use either instead of throwing rocks at my window all the time."_

_"Nah, then I'd have to go through other people to get to you. This is easier. Besides, makes me feel like I'm in a movie or somethin'." Dean looked up at Cas squinting against the harsh brightness of the sun, and Castiel's lips quirked into a smile._

_"Come around I'll let you in."_

_Dean disappeared around the side of the house and met Castiel at the front door._

_"So whatcha doing?" he asked pushing past Castiel. Castiel closed the door and followed Dean to his bedroom._

_"Reading."_

_"Again? Why? Reading is boring!"_

_"Reading is enlightening, Dean. My father says my mother liked me to read. Besides, I want to be ready when school starts."_

_Dean glanced at Castiel's bed and spotted the textbook Cas had been reading flipped over, pages down, to hold his place. Dean picked it up and held it up to Cas._

_"You're reading a_ textbook _,_ during the summer _?" His eyebrows were raised, and his tone of voice indicated it was the most ludicrous thing he'd ever heard._

_Castiel squirmed a little before taking the book from Dean and setting it, closed, on his nightstand. "My father likes me to stay caught up. If I'm going to amount to anything I need to stay caught up," he answered quietly looking at the ground. Castiel knew he was different from most kids, but he'd never had to explain himself to anyone before. The only other peers he associated with on a regular basis were his cousins and his father's friend's children, and they were all raised quite similarly to Castiel. They read textbooks over the summer, too. Ever since meeting Dean, it felt like he was running to keep up with the way Dean threw pop culture references and slang terms around like a baseball at a baseball game. And although Dean was patient, always trying to explain things to Cas so he had never felt belittled, sometimes their differences were far too apparent._

_Seeing he had hurt Castiel's feelings, albeit unintentionally, Dean reached out a hand and placed it on his friend's shoulder._

_"It's okay, Cas, I was just wondering. I've never met someone who does homework in the summer. Except Sammy, but he's a dork."_

_"So, I'm a dork?" Cas asked, his blue eyes locking with Dean's._

_"You're a cool dork, like Data," Dean explained with a smile and a ruffle of Cas's hair. When Cas offered him a questioning glance, Dean rolled his eyes, "Data's an android. You know, Star Trek, Next Gen?"_

_Cas's expression remained blank. "You really are Data!" Dean shouted before grabbing Cas's hand and pulling him towards the door. "C'mon. It's time to insert your 'emotion chip,' let's go. If we start now we can probably make it through the first season today."_

_Castiel's stomach twisted at the thought of not continuing his studies but it only stayed with him for a moment before he was pushing it away and allowing himself to melt into Dean's enthusiasm._

_Dean's mother always had something baking. It was one of the things Castiel enjoyed most about being at the Winchesters. That and the way Dean would pull Cas close to his side while they watched whatever Dean's current obsession was on the television, Dean gripping his arm at exciting and scary parts and Castiel unable to keep a smile from his face as he watched Dean watch the TV._

_He felt comfortable there._

_"Hi, Mom, Cas and I are going to watch Star Trek in the den. Don't let Sammy bug us," Dean shouted as he pulled Castiel through the Winchester's kitchen where Mary was bending to pull something from the oven. They pushed on through the house until they reached the den, the smell of lemon bars following them as they went._

_Castiel lay himself in the middle of the couch, splaying his legs out to the side while still allowing enough room on the other side for Dean to sit. Dean busied himself with putting in the first DVD and pulling the curtains closed on the big sliding glass window, obscuring the glare from the screen. He went to the couch and lifted Cas's legs, sitting where they had been and settling Castiel them over his lap jabbering on about things Castiel needed to pay attention to during the first episode._

_The only thing Castiel was able to pay attention to was his legs across Dean's lap, and Dean toying with the hem of Castiel's khakis._

* * *

Although Dean was pulling a C+ out of chemistry now, he was still a little lost. A lot of it probably had to do with the fact that he associated chemistry with Cas now, and when Castiel wasn't sitting across the table from him, explaining which substances could be combined safely and which couldn't, Dean found himself fantasizing about that rather than paying attention in class. So he shouldn't have been surprised when he got a D on his mid-term. Before even taking the test home to report to his parents, Dean stood over Mr. Turner's desk and begged him to issue a re-take.

"I'm sorry, Dean, but you can't re-take the test. You need to pay attention in class."

"Mr. Turner, please. I'll study real hard," Dean pleaded. Not only was he afraid of the punishment his parents would hand out if they heard about the D, he was also afraid Castiel would be disappointed in him. He didn't want the other boy to feel like he was wasting his time with Dean. The grade had to come up.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Winchester, but I can't let you retake the test," Mr. Turner said. "However, I'll allow you to come back after school and participate in an open lab. If you can find a lab partner and pass the open lab, I'll apply extra credit to your overall grade."

Dean's eyebrows rose. "Really?"

"I'll see you after school," Mr. Turner replied.

"Thank you!" Dean shouted as he ran from the classroom.

Dean ran up to Castiel's locker and pulled the already ajar door open further, slamming it against the locker next to it and revealing Castiel. "Hey Cas!" he said a little out of breath. Castiel looked around at the other students mulling about in between periods and then at Dean. Dean rolled his eyes.

"I know, I know, I'm talking to you where people can see. Sorry. But I have a favor to ask."

Cas continued to stare at Dean. Dean took that as his cue to keep talking. 

"Mr. Turner's going to give me extra credit if I pass an open lab today after school. I have to find my own lab partner though. Instead of tutoring in the library, can we do the lab?"

"I suppose so," Castiel responded.

"Awesome, thank you!" Dean said with a big grin on his face. He began to walk backwards towards his own locker. "You're the best, Cas."

"Goodbye, Dean," Cas said before turning back to his locker. He pulled his door back to a 90 degree angle so as to hide the small smile that had crept onto his face.

 

After school, Castiel and Dean met Mr. Turner in the chemistry lab. He had already written out instructions for Dean to follow and had pulled out the necessary supplies and placed them on a work station near the back. "You have one hour," he said before settling behind his desk and pulling out his red pen to grade papers.

Dean looked at Cas, and Cas gestured towards the work station with a sweeping of his arm. Dean pulled the instructions off the table and began reading over them. They seemed easy enough. Pour x amount of substance into long glass tube thingy, rinse, wash, and repeat. But when Dean started making a mental inventory of all the liquids and long glass tube thingys on the work station, he gulped a little, intimidated. That's when he felt a warm hand on his elbow and heard Castiel's low murmur.

"It's alright, Dean. You aren't going to blow us up if you get something wrong, and I'm right here."

Dean's smile lit up the room. "Thanks, Cas," he said a wave of reassurance washing over him.

Castiel nodded once, and he and Dean locked eyes for a moment or so before Cas was breaking the quiet intensity with a simple, "Dean." His tone was gentle but urging.

"Right," Dean said before turning his gaze back to their work station. He took in a deep breath and exhaled before starting.

 

Things were going well. Castiel let Dean do most of the work but offered reassuring nods or warning shakes of his head whenever Dean looked to him for support. He murmured words of encouragement anytime Dean started to feel unsure and remained faithfully at his side the entire time.  Dean had chopped and mixed and poured his way to what was almost a finished product and was getting ready to mix the final two chemicals together to complete the lab. As he hovered the beaker over the Erlenmeyer flask, he hesitated.

"What if I didn't mix something right?" he asked. His grade was in desperate need of this project succeeding, and it was the most serious he had ever taken a lab before. Usually he would watch Gordon Walker out of the corner of his eye and mixed exactly what Gordon mixed but today there had been no Gordon Walker.

"Just go slow," Cas coached. And suddenly he was sidled up behind Dean, his chest a warm line against Dean's back. He gripped Dean's hip with one hand and rested the other on top of Dean's hand that was holding the beaker, steadying Dean's slight tremor. Cas glided the beaker over the Erlenmeyer flask and helped Dean tip the liquid into a downward stream so that it flowed slowly, effortlessly into the flask. "Just. Go. Slow," he murmured in Dean's ear. Dean was no longer paying attention to chemistry. Or not the chemistry he was being graded on, anyway. His body had gone still, and his breathing had grown shallow. He didn't even realize they had finished pouring the liquid as his eyes were on Cas in a slanting glance. When Castiel realized Dean was paying more attention to him than the project, and how nice it felt to be as close to Dean as he was at that moment, he removed his hands from Dean's body and stepped back, his cheeks growing flushed. 

"You did it, Dean," he said quietly without making eye contact, and then he was gone.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This a finished work. Please see posting schedule [here](http://castielsangelpeen.tumblr.com/post/50515068366/chalk-chainmail-posting-schedule).  
> Story beta'd by the Dean to my Cas, [literaryoblivion aka "Freckles"](http://literaryoblivion.tumblr.com)  
> Updates, deleted scenes, timestamps etc. can be found on my [tumblr](http://castielsangelpeen.tumblr.com).
> 
> *depictions of emotional abuse and anxiety disorder  
> 

After the chem lab, Castiel grew distant again. His eyes flicked away whenever his gaze met Dean's in the hall or during classes they shared, and during tutoring sessions he was almost non-existent, either texting Balthazar or staring out the window while Dean did what he could without help. If Dean had a question on a problem, Cas would work through it with him, commend him on doing a good job, and then retreat back inside his own head. His fingers were usually stained in black artist's chalk, and Dean forced himself on more occasion than one not to reach out and wipe away the smudges Castiel left behind on his face after touching it with his fingers.

 

On the fourth day of this stilted pattern of Castiel's, Dean grew worried. Castiel was looking more sullen and robotic than usual. His answers to Dean were clipped and distant, and Dean felt like he'd get more done on his own than with the other boy sitting across from him practically ignoring him.

"I'm gunna finish at home. I think I understand it," he finally said closing his book. "Thanks for your help, Cas."   

"Hmmmm?" Castiel murmured looking from the window to Dean. He glanced to Dean's closed chemistry book. "Oh, right. I apologize for not being entirely invested today. I've just got a lot on my mind. You know, Oxford and all that," he replied mostly to the table. It was the most polite Castiel had been to him all afternoon. And even though Dean wanted to shake Cas and tell him college was still a couple of years away and not to worry about it, he just nodded, something telling him Castiel may be hiding behind Oxford as an excuse.

"Yeah, sure. I'll see ya, Cas," Dean said hefting his backpack onto his shoulder. Castiel nodded slowly, still not making eye contact with Dean. At the library door, Dean looked over his shoulder once more. Castiel had made no move to leave but had pulled a tattered sketch book out of his bag and was scowling at it as if it had personally offended him. Dean shook his head and left the library.

 

Later that night, a light knock sounded on Castiel's bedroom door. When he didn't answer, Anna poked her head in. "Are you clothed?" she asked, not looking into the room.

"Despite what you may do in your bedroom with the door closed, I usually prefer to maintain a clean and sanitary environment in mine," Castiel responded dryly from where he was laying on his back on his bed. His arm was flung over his eyes, and he was still in the clothes he'd worn to school. He had at least un-tucked the plaid shirt he wore under his button down, sweater vest but that's about as relaxed as he'd gotten before flining himself down on his bed and drowning in his own thoughts.

"You have a visitor," Anna said ignoring her brother's snide remark. Castiel sat up and looked toward the doorway, but instead of Anna, he saw a grinning Dean.

"Hey-a, Cas," Dean said with a little wave. He looked nervous.

"Dean?"

Dean stepped into the room and took in his surroundings, eyeing all the artwork—Cas's artwork, he assumed—hanging from nearly every available wall space. "You did all these?" he asked admiring the work. Castiel nodded shyly. "They're really good."

"Dean, why are you here?" Castiel asked. He had stood from the bed when Dean had come in and was now following him like a shadow around the room. Dean was still examining Castiel's paintings and sketches, and Castiel felt like a bug under a magnifying glass. No one was ever allowed in his room as of late and certainly not to scrutinize his artwork. It was the one place he felt he could truly express himself, and now Dean was here. Observing. Finally, Dean tore his eyes away from the art-covered walls and looked at Cas.

"The place looks different from when I was last here," he explained before telling Cas, "I just came to say hi." He turned and rested his butt against the desk that was tucked up neatly against the wall and folded his arms across his chest as he offered Cas an easy smile.

"No one comes to 'just say hi,’" Castiel countered. He was trying to remain calm, but anticipation rose in his chest now whenever Dean was around. It was that same contended buzz that had pushed him to do what he'd done in the chemistry lab (which he absolutely did not want to talk about). Dealing with that anxiety was something Castiel did not know how to do. While he was comfortable in his sexuality, being attracted to men no longer something that confused him, Dean Winchester had always made him uncomfortable in all sorts of ways he didn't understand.

"Why not?" Dean asked pulling Castiel from his inward tug-of-war.

"Because they don't. Either you want something from me, or you were inexplicably bored for it only being a Thursday and Sam's not around to exchange endearing brotherly insults with," Castiel explained in an exasperated tone.

Dean looked at his feet. He thought about admitting to Castiel that he was worried about him and that's why he'd appeared unannounced, but he was afraid Castiel would push him out again so he went with, "I was bored, and when I was taking the trash out, and I saw your light on I thought I'd drop by, see what you're up to."

"Oh."

Dean pushed up off the desk and resumed looking at Castiel's work. "Are you in any art classes at school?" he asked, pausing at a particularly stunning sketch of a fierce looking angel with massive black wings about to take flight.

"I don't have time for art in my schedule. 

"Looks like you're still really into it though," Dean commented, "I remember you always drew when we were kids." And maybe talking to Castiel was about as easy as talking to a rock, but he didn't care. Being in Castiel's room again was like pulling back the curtain to the Wizard of Oz, seeing what was really behind the big, dramatic facade. At school, Castiel was Castiel Milton, brother to Anna and Michael Milton, straight A student, Honor Roll, captain of the debate, chess and Latin clubs, editor of the school newspaper, snobby, rich, know-it-all child prodigy. But here in his room, Dean was reminded of the softer edges, the filters of light through the hard shell exterior. Here, he was just Cas.

"You gonna do something with it?" Dean asked suddenly realizing how little he actually knew about Castiel these days. For the amount of time they spent together, it felt like he should know more, but Castiel was ever the quiet companion.

"I don't understand," Castiel admitted, and he was still eyeing Dean like he was going to pounce on him at any minute. Dean dropped himself on to Castiel's bed.

"I mean are you gonna be an artist or something?"

"Oh. No, I'm not going to be an artist."

"Why not?"

"Because that's not practical."

"So. Neither is being a rockstar, but people still do it."

"Dean," Cas began but he stopped short, his heart clenching tight in his chest when he saw that Dean had picked up the sketchbook off his nightstand and was now thumbing through its pages. Cas leapt across the room and yanked the sketchbook out of Dean's hands, clutching it to his chest. Horrified blue eyes met questioning green ones, and Castiel was praying harder than he'd ever prayed before that Dean had not seen too much of what was in the sketchbook.

"Were all those supposed to be me?" Dean finally asked. Cas let out a groan and buried his face in his hands, still holding the sketchbook protectively against himself. 

"Please leave, Dean," Castiel said from behind his hands. There was a long pause before he heard the slight creak of his bed indicating Dean was now standing and felt Dean's presence loom closer to him. Dean stood and studied Castiel's slumped, resigned form for a few brief seconds before shaking his head and leaving the room.

 

That night as Castiel was settling into bed, his cell phone buzzed signaling he had a text message. He pulled his phone off the nightstand and opened the message, and stared at the number he didn't recognize for a good few minutes before reading the text.

_Got your number from Sam, he still had it from when you helped him with his Latin. Don't be mad. Sorry I barged in on you tonight and sorry I looked in your notebook._

Cas huffed and put his phone back on the night stand. A few minutes later, it was buzzing again.

_And I was serious when I said your art is really good. You shouldn't be embarrassed by it. You're like fucking Picasso._

At that a small smile crept onto Castiel's face. He stared at the message for a good few minutes before responding with a simple _Good night, Dean_. After saving Dean's number in his phone he closed his eyes and as he drifted off to sleep, images of green eyes and an easy smile followed him. No lost angels bothered his dreams that night.

 *

When Castiel approached Dean at lunch the next day, Dean had to admit he was surprised.

"Picasso was a cubist," Castiel said by way of greeting.

"I thought he was Spanish," Dean said confused both by the remark and why Cas had decided to approach him and inform him of Picasso's ethnicity.

Shaking his head, Castiel sighed and sat down on the low cement wall next to Dean who immediately moved his lunch and book bag over to make room. "Not Cuban, _cubist_.  
You said I was like Picasso. But he's a cubism artist. My work is not considered cubism."

"Van Gogh?" Dean asked, trying again.

A smile quirked at Cas's lips and he shook his head. "His movement was post-impressionism."

Dean nodded, taking in the new knowledge thoughtfully before speaking again. "So, what's your- uh 'movement?’” Dean asked.

"I don't particularly have one," Castiel said, looking down at his hands contemplatively as if he'd never given it much thought. "I just draw what I feel, I guess."

"So, what do you feel when you draw me?" Dean asked. He tried to make it sound as casual and unobtrusive as possible but ever since he'd seen his face on multiple pages of Cas's sketch book, he couldn't stop thinking about it.

Castiel visibly stiffened.

"I'd rather not have this conversation," he said quietly.

"C'mon, Cas. _You_ approached me. I'm not trying to be a dick; I'm just curious," Dean explained. "If you found a notebook with your face on every page, wouldn't you be a little bit curious?"

Castiel still didn't answer.

After another beat of silence and Castiel avoiding Dean's gaze, Dean sighed. "Fine," he said dejectedly. "I better go to my locker. Gotta switch my books out before class. I'll see you in biology, Cas." He pushed his palms into the grass that sat level with the cement wall he'd been occupying, making to leave.

"I feel aggravated," Castiel blurted out.

Dean looked down at the other boy. "What?"

"When I draw you. I feel aggravated."

"Why?"

"Because I can't figure you out."

Dean lowered himself back to the grass and sat quietly waiting for Castiel to continue. Castiel played with one of the buttons on his sweater vest, avoiding Dean's gaze. Finally, he spoke again.

"You don't make any sense," he said. "You shouldn't be nice to me because I'm not nice to you, but you are anyway. And you're always there, even when I'm pushing you away.  I can't get rid of you. Life was so much easier when you and I stayed in our respective cliques and didn't acknowledge each other's presence. Now, you're all I think about, and it's very distracting and very—" Cas pulled a tuft of grass out of the earth and tossed it back down as he finished, "aggravating."

Dean sat stunned. He had never heard Castiel ramble like that, but more than that, what Castiel had said was resonating somewhere deep within Dean's chest. He had successfully gotten under Castiel's skin, and apparently it was driving the kid crazy. Cas, with his sweater vests and ties, the junior who was already getting scholarship offers and who was almost never late or spoke out of turn and more often resembled a good little soldier than a 17 year-old kid, was getting ruffled just because of Dean.

When Castiel finally looked at Dean and saw the crooked smile on his face, he frowned.

"What are you smiling at?"

"You can't stop thinking about me?" Dean asked.

Castiel let out a strangled cry of exasperation. "That's what you gathered from what I said?" he asked.

"And that I aggravate you. But I think you kinda like it," Dean said nudging Castiel's shoulder with his own. The other boy huffed.

"No, I don't." But his voice betrayed his words. He looked up to meet Dean's eyes. "Why won't you just leave me alone?" he asked quietly.

Dean moved his hand to rest on Castiel's shoulder, his face now a mask of seriousness. "Because I care about you, Cas," he said honestly, "always have." And while Dean hated talking about feelings and all that kind of girly crap, he felt like unless he was completely honest with the other boy, things could go sour fast. The fact that Castiel was sitting across from him at all was a step in the right direction, and Dean didn't want to screw that up.

"Why?" Castiel moaned.

"I don't know, why not? I think you're really cool. And you're kind of weird, but in a good way. You make me smile and your eyes are this creepy-blue color that kind of drives me nuts, but I like it. And I never thought I'd be attracted to someone who wears more sweater vests than my grandpa, but I am. I can't get over how messy your hair is when everything else about you is so perfect and proper. It's like the Rebel Forces to your Darth Vader." And now Dean was the one rambling, but he didn't care; if it was going to make Cas stay, he'd talk for days about what he liked about him.

"I don't understand that reference," Castiel pointed out, deterring from what Dean had just said although his expression had softened.

"Star Wars. C'mon, Cas."  He searched Castiel's eyes for any hint of recognition, and when he found none, Dean groaned. "Seriously? How did I not show you this when we were kids? Okay, you're coming over tomorrow. We're marathoning. And I know you'll already have all your homework done for the weekend by lunch tomorrow so no using that as an excuse."

Castiel opened his mouth to object but Dean stood up, shifting his bag onto his shoulders. "I'm not taking 'no' for an answer, Cas," he stated before walking away. Castiel slumped against the tree that was behind him, watching Dean until he entered the school. He stared at the doors for a few minutes longer until Balthazar plopped down elegantly beside him.

"You know, if you stare hard enough, you just might burn a hole through those doors," he joked.

Castiel looked over at him. "Balthazar, you know that is physically impossible."

Balthazar chuckled and shook his head. "Always the charmer, Cassie." He said then asked, "Where have you been all lunch?"

"Right here. I was talking to Dean," Castiel admitted in a quiet voice, looking down at his hands.

"And?" 

"I think we have a date," Castiel responded.

Balthazar let out a low whistle but said nothing. The two of them sat in companionable silence for a few minutes more until the first bell rang.

 

"Sorry I missed lunch. I promised Chuck I'd proofread his novel, and then he wanted to talk about my edits, and it took longer than I had originally planned. He has so many plot holes, it’s like walking through the Bog of Eternal Stench," Charlie said all in one breath, falling back against her locker. She looked over at Dean when he didn't respond. "Dean-o?" she asked, concerned.

"I think I just asked Cas on a date?" he said, his voice moving around his words like a question rather than a statement.

"What do you mean, 'you think?' You don't sound certain, how can you not know?" Charlie asked almost frantically.

"I don't know," Dean responded weakly, "I invited him over to watch Star Wars."

"Did you invite anyone else?"

"I hadn't planned on it. Sorry, by the way."

"It's a date," Charlie confirmed. "And don't be sorry. But, Dean, are you sure? I mean do you want me to come as back up? We need a code. If things start to go Helm’s Deep, you text me the code and I'll call you, act like it's an emergency."

"Charlie, I'm not having a code," Dean informed his best friend as he closed his locker. She followed him in the direction of their next class, which they shared. "It'll be fine," he assured, more for his benefit than hers.

*

It was not fine. Or at least Dean was not fine. On the night Castiel was due to come over, Dean had kicked everyone out of the house and was now pacing back and forth in anticipation of his arrival. All day he’d been fidgety and unable to remain calm about the fact that Castiel Milton was coming over for a date.

He had texted Charlie no less than 13 times in the last 10 minutes, his texts varying between _I can't do this_ and _What if I say something stupid?_  Charlie's responses had been unhelpful to say the least. Things like _May the force be with you_ and _I'm glad it is your burden to bear_  made Dean even more nervous, and so he stopped texting her altogether. He should have accepted the offer of a 'code.'

7:00 rolled around, and Castiel's sharp knock was sounding on the door causing Dean to nearly jump out of his skin. But he squared his shoulders and sauntered to the door nonetheless, taking a deep breath before throwing it open.

When Dean saw Castiel standing on the doorstep, white v-neck shirt under a neat, thin, black cardigan and gray twill pants that hugged his hips just right, all of Dean's vibrato bolted, leaving him a gaping teenage boy with half a hard-on and hungry green eyes. "Hi, Cas," he managed. Castiel offered him a small smile.

"Hello, Dean." Dean's stomach did a flip flop. The way Castiel said just those two words got underneath his skin and made him feel all warm inside. After telling himself to quit acting like such a girl, Dean finally invited Castiel in and nervously led him to the den where he'd already set out all six of the Star Wars films.

"So, uh, I know we won't get through all six tonight, but where do you want to start? There are the newest ones with pretty decent special effects and not much else and then there are the original three. The classics," Dean rambled, looking at Castiel.

"Naturally, I don't have a preference," Castiel assured the other boy. Dean nodded.

"Right. A New Hope it is. I just can't, in my right mind, subject you to Phantom Menace first. I think you'd hate me, and it's not even the worst of them," Dean explained as he put the DVD in. While he did so, Castiel made himself comfortable on the couch, allowing Dean to babble on. "I mean, Anakin is like, pretty kick ass, but his storyline with Padmé is so angsty. Attack of the Clones was more like Attack of the Hormones." Dean shut the light out and approached the couch. Castiel had taken up a spot in the middle of the couch, leaving a small space between him and the arm, which was clearly meant for Dean. Dean inwardly gulped before sitting down next to Castiel, instantly aware of the other boy's body heat and their thighs, hips, and shoulders pressed firmly together, the back of their hands brushing up against each other. Not trusting himself to look at Castiel, Dean pushed play and tried to think of anything but how much Castiel was affecting him at that moment. He didn't want to be that douche bag that jumped his date on the first night. But, boy, did he want to jump Castiel.

When the sounds of the opening theme song had quieted and the familiar scroll of A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away... had faded, Dean was able to lose himself in the movie a little. Every time something came up he thought Cas wouldn't understand, however, he made sure to lean over and explain in a low voice what was going on. Finally, when they had made it through A New Hope and were half way finished with The Empire Strikes Back, Castiel brought a finger to Dean's lips.

"Dean," he said, "be quiet." Dean's eyes went wide, but he nodded.

"Sorry," he mumbled underneath Castiel's finger. Castiel dropped his hand back to his lap, his eyes still trained on Dean. "I'll let you watch the movie without bothering you," Dean stated.

Shaking his head, Castiel groaned, and in one lithe, ninja movement, he was straddling Dean's hips with his knees, staring down at him, palms pressing into the back of the couch. Dean's hands immediately went to Castiel's hips, but it was more to brace himself than anything else. He was almost dizzy with how quickly Cas had gone from next to him to on top of him.

"It's not about the movie, Dean," Castiel said quietly, leaning in, his face just inches from Dean's. "It's you, talking. In my ear. It's—" Cas dropped his head to Dean's shoulder for a minute before lifting it and continuing. "It's driving me crazy," he finally finished.

Dean swallowed hard. 

"All I can think about is kissing you," Castiel admitted, allowing his lips to brush ever so gently across Dean's neck, and Dean wasn't sure where the kid was getting all his moves from, but they were definitely working. It was as if Castiel had gone from quiet, reserved, put-together Castiel to horny, teenage boy with skills like a seasoned seducer in a matter of ten seconds flat. "In fact," he continued, moving his mouth to the other side of Dean's neck and placing a soft kiss there as well, "I've always wanted to kiss you."

Dean just stared up at him. Normally he was better at this sort of thing, having made out with numerous girls and even a few guys, but there was something about Cas that made his heart pound double time and his thoughts to become jumbled. Castiel kissed the hollow of Dean's throat before moving on to his forehead and then nose and finally, his lips hovered just above Dean's. "Dean, I'd like for you to kiss me now," he murmured in the space between Dean's lips and nose, and it was as if something snapped inside Dean. He put a hand at the back of Castiel's head and pushed him forward, bringing their lips together in a hungry, exploratory kiss. The two wasted no time with soft chaste kisses; perhaps they’d have time for those later. Instead, they immediately opened up to each other, tongues licking along teeth and the roofs of each other's mouths, gasping between sucking on collar bones and biting at the sensitive skin where neck meets shoulder. Their hands and lips and tongues were everywhere, the movie long forgotten. It wasn't until Castiel felt Dean harden in his jeans that he pulled away, breathing heavily, equally as aroused.

As Dean reached for the button on Cas's jeans, Castiel put his hand lightly over Dean's and his lips right next to Dean's ear whispering, "Patience, young Skywalker." And Dean nearly came in his pants at that statement alone. But then Cas was up and off of him just as quickly as he'd been on him, straightening his rumpled clothes and doing what he could to calm his mussed hair. "Thank you for having me over, Dean," Castiel said, voice wrecked. And then just like that, he was gone.

 

The entire walk home, Cas clenched his fists at his sides. Dean's eyes, pupils blown wide with want, seared into his brain. He had kissed Dean Winchester. _No_ , he had participated in a make out session with Dean Winchester that had escalated more quickly than Castiel had anticipated. When Cas arrived home, he did not go to bed for a long time, his sketch book filling up with charcoaled images of Dean, the way Castiel had experienced him just a few hours previously. Pliant and desperate and beautiful.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This a finished work. Please see posting schedule [here](http://castielsangelpeen.tumblr.com/post/50515068366/chalk-chainmail-posting-schedule).  
> Story beta'd by the Dean to my Cas, [literaryoblivion aka "Freckles"](http://literaryoblivion.tumblr.com)  
> Updates, deleted scenes, timestamps etc. can be found on my [tumblr](http://castielsangelpeen.tumblr.com).  
> *depictions of emotional abuse and anxiety disorder  
> 

Dean waited all weekend for a text or phone call or _anything_ indicating things had changed between he and Cas, but when Monday rolled around and his phone had remained disappointingly silent, Dean went to school with a case of hurt pride and feeling more confused than ever. While he had made no attempt to contact Castiel either, he had told himself over and over again that it was Cas's move. Castiel had been the one to take things to the next level, and now, it was also his job to follow through. So, Dean waited.

 

"Something happened," Charlie stated as Dean approached his locker before their first class of the day. She was already leaning up against hers, waiting to hear the news from the weekend. He scowled at her and opened his locker. "Although I can't tell if it was good or bad." She tapped her finger against her lips in mock thought as she studied Dean's angry, hunched shoulders.

"Don't wanna talk about it, Codex," he muttered.

"Right. Because you never want to talk about 'it.' So naturally, that's going to stop me from prying," Charlie pointed out. Dean gave her a look. One that begged her to leave him be. She waved a hand at him. "Fine. I'll be quiet for now. But, we are talking about this. You are my handmaiden and I, your queen. As such, it is my job to make sure you are of sound mind, which sometimes requires talking about 'it.' Understand?"

"Dammit, Charlie, that was one time," Dean reminded her, irritated.

Charlie merely raised her eyebrows at him and repeated, "Understand?"

Dean sighed. "If I say I understand, will you leave me alone?"

"Momentarily."

"I understand," Dean replied. Charlie shot him a satisfied smile and left him to head to her first class. Dean, having loaded his backpack with his books for the first half of the day closed his locker and turned to leave when he caught sight of a pair of familiar, irritatingly blue eyes locked on him. Cas was standing by his own locker, surrounded by Uriel, Balthazar, Anna, Hester, Fate, and a few others, and Balthazar was gesticulating wildly with his hands telling some outlandish story, no doubt. Everyone was laughing, paying attention to Balthazar. Everyone that is, but Castiel.

Dean made eye contact, and the two stared at each other, Castiel's gaze thoughtful, Dean's questioning. It wasn't until the first bell rang that either of them looked away. Castiel headed off in one direction and Dean in the other. But as Dean moved towards his first class, eyes ahead of him, Cas glanced over his shoulder once more to study Dean's retreating form before turning away.

 

When Dean entered the library that afternoon, he was fairly surprised to find Castiel already sitting at their usual table, his homework spread out in front of him. Dean hadn't been sure whether to expect a tutoring session or not.

As Dean dropped into the seat across from him, Castiel didn't look up from his work but muttered a polite, "Hello, Dean," in way of greeting.

The other boy's calm demeanor, as if nothing had happened between them over the weekend, irritated him, and he wasn't sure what to say, so he said nothing at all. He studied Castiel's form as the other boy solved trigonometry equations in his head, his seemingly endless fountain of knowledge never ceasing to amaze Dean.

Castiel looked up after a few moments, probably when he realized Dean wasn't unloading his backpack, and asked, "Dean?"

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but so many questions were vying for attention that all he could manage was a strangled cry of frustration. Castiel was the most confusing person he'd ever encountered in his entire life, and everything he'd been feeling for the past several years was now boiling at the surface. Elation, confusion, hurt, anger, loss, hope all bubbling beneath his skin, clouding his thoughts, overtaking his mind. Castiel studied him intently, but his otherwise welcome gaze caused Dean's skin to crawl. The worst of it was, when Castiel looked at Dean with his wide blue eyes, swimming with questions, Dean realized Castiel had no idea the effect he had on Dean nor had any idea why Dean was so upset. With the weight of it all suddenly crashing down on top of him, Dean stood from the table in a huff, his chair rocking back on two legs before toppling over, and marched away without even bothering to collect his things. He had no idea where he was going, but he knew he had to get away from Castiel Milton, so he retreated into the book-lined shelves and didn't look back.

 

After Dean stormed off, Castiel sat and stared at his Trigonometry homework for quite some time, the numbers blurring in front of his eyes meshing together, becoming one until none of it made sense. All weekend he had contemplated on how to react to what had happened between he and Dean. He'd paced in his room, running fingers, blackened by chalk, through his hair making it stand up in disarray, and each time he'd reached for his phone to contact Dean, his father's words echoed in his brain, "No one wants you, Castiel. Not until you've proven you're worth something." He'd stared at his phone, a blank text to Dean's number glaring back at him. He'd typed out nothing short of 18 different messages and deleted them all. The truth was, he was certain his father was right. After tutoring, what use did Dean have for him? And so instead of contacting Dean, he'd sketched. He drew Dean's eyes, his lips, the freckles on the bridge of his nose, and while they never looked right, he kept at them, refusing to retreat to the lost angel who was always there in the back of his mind.

But if Dean had no intentions of sticking around after tutoring, why had he looked so hurt?

Pushing away from the table, Castiel headed off in the direction he'd watched Dean go, quietly calling out his name every so often. Even though they were alone in the library and most of the lights had even been dimmed when the librarian had gone for the day, he still felt the need to be compliant with library etiquette and keep his voice down.

Despite Dean not responding, Castiel continued to speak just in case he was being heard. "It's childish to sulk, Dean," he stated into the air. "Just tell me where you are."

"M'not sulking."

Castiel turned towards the voice. He headed further into the stacks, down the aisle that housed the encyclopedias no one was allowed to take home. There was a good amount of dust gathering on the rarely used books, and Castiel rolled his eyes. Leave it to Dean to choose the one place that would agitate Castiel's allergies. He found Dean standing a ways down, towards the end of the aisle with one of the large encyclopedias propped open and resting on the lip of a shelf.

"Then what are you doing back here?" Castiel asked, approaching Dean slowly, like he was a wild animal who, with any sudden movement, would be spooked.

"Reading." Dean held the encyclopedia up. "Henry Ford. You've heard of him, right?"

"I've heard of him, yes," Castiel responded in kind, deciding it best not to point out how strange it was that Dean had run off to read rather than just going home altogether.

"Question is, what're _you_ doing back here, Cas?" Dean asked, his eyes turned back towards the pages of the book.

"Looking for you."

"Why?"

"Because I think we should talk."

Dean snorted and shook his head but said nothing, his eyes remaining on the pages of the encyclopedia. Castiel watched him for a minute.

"Dean," he tried again.

No response.

"Dean."

When Dean still paid him no attention, Cas waltzed over and yanked the book from Dean's grasp, dropping it to the floor with a loud thud. "Dean, I'm trying to have a conversation with you," he growled.

Dean's eyes met Cas's, and there was a spark of anger harbored in the otherwise neutral green. "Infuriating isn't it? Trying to talk to someone who's got walls up that could rival Fort Knox?"

"I do not have walls up," Castiel countered, folding his arms across his chest, indignant. It was the very image of someone who was as closed off as one could be, and Dean snickered at the irony.

"You sure as hell do!" he shot back. "And just when I thought I was gunna be allowed past the front gates, you slam them closed on me. You wanna talk, Cas? Let's talk! Let's talk about why you're acting like nothing happened. Let's talk about how hot and cold you are. How nothing makes sense when I'm around you."

In response, Dean felt himself being shoved up against a bookshelf hard enough to scatter several encyclopedias to the floor. He looked down to find Castiel's hands fisted in his shirt, his lips curled in anger.

"Nothing makes sense?" Castiel snarled, "I'll tell you what doesn't make sense. You know how I am, Dean, how I've always been. Yet every time I respond to you according to my character, my personality, you act as if I'm an assbutt, like I've done something you can't believe."

"You _are_ an assbutt," Dean retorted before muttering, "whatever that is."

Castiel leaned in, his face inches from Dean's. He was seething now. His friendship with Dean had always been both the most simple and complex relationship he'd ever dealt with, and it was beginning to wear on him. "And I've always been one!" he was practically shouting now, library rules be damned, "So why do you continuously look like a kicked puppy every time I act just how you know I will? I'm not going to change, Dean. Not for you. Not for anyone. So stop. Trying. To change. Me." He spat each word with defiance, shoving into Dean with his forearm with every word, the metal shelves digging into Dean's back. The words were a mask, really, a diversion from what he was really feeling but there was some truth to them as well so Castiel didn't take them back.

There was a moment of heated silence between them, and then all at once, they were kissing. Furiously. Neither knew who initiated it, nor did either of them care. Castiel let go of his grasp on Dean's shirt and placed his hands instead on either side of Dean's face, pulling him in closer, biting at Dean's bottom lip and then licking his way into Dean's mouth.

Dean had fisted a hand in Castiel's hair, and he tugged, hard, causing the other boy to gasp and tilt his head back, seeking some relief from Dean's grasp. With Castiel's neck exposed so perfectly, Dean went to sucking his way from jaw to shoulder, wrapping his free arm around Cas's waist, pulling him in closer until their bodies were flush up against one another. More books crashed to the ground.

"Dean," Castiel gasped, his hands running frantically down Dean's back.

"Is that what this is about, Cas? You think I'm trying to change you?" Dean asked between a bite to Castiel's jaw and a soothing swipe of his tongue. He pushed away from the shelves, capturing Cas's lips again, and maneuvered Castiel up against the wall, grinding into him as he did so. "I'm sorry, okay?" Dean confessed then between kisses, and Castiel nodded. "I don't want you to change," another kiss, another nip, "just want you to let me in."

"I'm scared," Castiel breathed then in the heat of the moment. As soon as the words slipped from his lips Dean stilled and pulled away looking at Castiel, his green eyes intense with concern.

"Cas, what are you scared of?"

Castiel looked down at their bodies pressed close together. He hadn't had any intentions of admitting that to Dean, ever, and now that he had, explaining himself seemed even worse than the admission itself. "That you're going to leave me," he finally stated quietly, "When this is all over I'm afraid you won't need me anymore and that you'll—" he sighed and closed his eyes, resting his head back against the wall, "that you'll leave me." He finally finished.

He felt Dean's fingers wind themselves into the hair at the base of his skull before his head was being pulled forward. He opened his eyes just as Dean pressed their lips together again in a gentle, reassuring slide.

"I'm not going anywhere, Cas," Dean stated gruffly, his voice defiant and serious.

It was too much. The five words Dean uttered did things to Castiel, and he didn't know how to respond other than to pull Dean even closer still and kiss him frantically, desperately, trying to convey all he couldn't say and trying to believe the words themselves.

Dean responded in kind, kissing back with just as much feeling, wedging a leg in between Castiel's creating a friction that caused Castiel to gasp and spread his legs wider. He allowed Dean to take over, responding to the slow and steady grind their bodies had fallen into, but when he felt close to toppling over the edge, he pulled away, gasping.

"Stop, Dean. Stop. We have to stop." He wasn't sure how he'd formed the words but they were coming out nonetheless. And he hated himself for them, but they needed to be said. He did not want to have an orgasm between the dusty shelves of the high school library only to have to travel home, sticky with his own come.

Dean stopped grinding into Cas, both of them breathing hard and rested his forehead on Castiel's. "You really know how to blue-ball a guy, huh, Cas?" he said quietly and Castiel huffed a laugh in response. They stood there for a minute, both catching their breath, both trying to will themselves apart but neither of them moving.

Finally, Dean lifted his forehead from Cas's. He kissed one eyelid and then the next, Castiel leaning into the gentle touch with his eyebrows pulled together as if he was trying desperately not to enjoy the motion and failing.

"What now?" Dean murmured, his lips back against Castiel's. Cas pursed his lips so that they met with Dean's ever so slightly.

"I need time to think. Please, just," he sighed in resignation, "give me some time. Let me think."

Dean kissed Cas's forehead before pulling him into a hug. "Okay, Cas. Time." He acquiesced quietly.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This a finished work. Please see posting schedule [here](http://castielsangelpeen.tumblr.com/post/50515068366/chalk-chainmail-posting-schedule).  
> Story beta'd by the Dean to my Cas, [literaryoblivion aka "Freckles"](http://literaryoblivion.tumblr.com)  
> Updates, deleted scenes, timestamps etc. can be found on my [tumblr](http://castielsangelpeen.tumblr.com).
> 
> *depictions of emotional abuse and anxiety disorder  
> 

Giving Cas time was incredibly difficult for Dean. He had no idea what 'time to think' actually meant, but because he was just as bad at trying to talk about things as Cas was, he didn't approach the subject again in fear of blowing out the small flicker of a relationship they had built. So instead, Dean sat. And wondered. And waited. It wasn't until a few nights after their escapades in the library that his waiting paid off.

 

After sending Dean a text message, Castiel paced back and forth in his room running his hands through his hair and smoothing them over his clothes. He'd tried to scrub as much chalk residue off his fingers as possible and the water had turned nearly black underneath his hands, but there were still faint traces of chalk under his fingernails and in the creases of his skin. He hoped Dean wouldn't notice. When his phone buzzed again with a text from Dean saying, _Here_ , Castiel made his way clumsily down the stairs, through the front door and out to Dean's car that was idling in the driveway.  

"Hey, Cas," Dean greeted as Castiel slid into the passenger side seat.

"Hello, Dean."

"Where we going?"

Castiel hesitated, resting his palms on his knees and studying them intently. "I didn't have a specific place in mind," he admitted, "somewhere private, maybe?"

Dean smiled at him suggestively. "You gonna buy me a drink first?" he asked.

Castiel furrowed his brow, "We're not old enough to drink, Dean, and you most certainly shouldn't be drinking while driving."

"It was a joke, Cas," Dean explained as he pulled out of the driveway.

"Teenage drinking is not a joke, Dean," Castiel scolded. Dean chuckled and shook his head.

 

Dean drove them to the park they'd frequented during the summer they had spent together as kids.  After having tugged a blanket out of the trunk of the Impala, Dean lead the way to a spot of grass and flung the blanket out in front of them as he lowered it to the ground. He lay down with his hands on his chest and looked up at the stars.

Cas remained standing.

After a beat, Dean propped himself up on his elbows and eyed the other boy. "Dude, you look like an Ood standing there staring at me like that. Come sit down."  

"Do I even want to know what an Ood is?" Castiel asked as he edged himself onto the blanket and laid down a somewhat safe distance away from Dean.

"They're these creepy alien guys on Doctor Who that just kind of stare at people. Not that you're a creepy alien guy—" Dean tried to explain, "You know what? Forget it." He lay back down, focusing on the stars again.

They lay there in companionable silence for a few minutes before Dean felt the brush of Castiel's fingers against his own and then smiled to himself as Cas tangled them together, squeezing a little as if to remind Dean he was there.

"I miss you, Dean," Castiel said quietly after a few moments had passed. Dean looked over at him.

"I'm right here, Cas."

"No, I mean, when I'm not with you, I miss you.  All these years that we haven't spoken to one another, I've missed you. Every day. That's why I draw you so often. It's the only way I've known how to hold on to you."

Dean rolled onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow and studied Castiel. He looked sad, and lost, and confused. Dean wanted to soothe it all out of him and replace it with a calming balm that would make him happier. He reached out—slowly in case his touch was unwelcome—and fit his hand beneath Castiel's ear, his thumb resting on the other boy's jaw, fingers curling into the hair at the nape of Cas's neck. "Like I said before, I'm not going anywhere, Cas," he told him gently, "I'm here for as long as you want me. I always have been."

Castiel sighed as he reached up and pulled Dean down on top of him. "I know," he said as he brought Dean's lips to his own.

They kissed like that for awhile, slow and exploratory in a way they'd never taken the time to do before. Noses brushed against each other, tongues slid lazily in and out of each other's mouths; it was perfect and easy and nice.

Dean was the first to pull away. Swiping a hand across his mouth, he rested his ear on Cas's heart, listening to the steady sound of each beat while Castiel ran his fingers lightly up and down Dean's spine, his free hand moving to intertwine with Dean's again.

"Why can't we have this all the time?" Dean wondered and the fingers on Dean's back stilled. He was worried Castiel was going to run away on him again, but then the other boy sighed and spoke.

"Dean, if you only understood how badly I want to be with you," Castiel explained his voice quiet and tentative, "but I—" he stopped, at a loss for how to explain what was stopping them from simply being.

Dean settled himself over Castiel, chest to chest, and locked their gazes together, blue searching green searching blue, "Cas," he started, his voice so quiet Castiel almost missed it, "just talk to me," he pleaded softly.

It was quiet for a beat and then, "I feel brave when I'm around you," Castiel admitted, "and I question what I've been taught my whole life. You've always had that affect on me."

"How is feeling brave a bad thing?"            

"I never knew I needed bravery before, Dean, and now that I feel it, I want to use it. I want to be brave. But it's not right. I shouldn't want to go against what I've known all my life. I shouldn't want to disobey my father, to rebel against my family. But when I'm with you, I do. I want all of that. Being with you makes me realize how unhappy I am when I'm doing what I used to think was the right thing."

Dean leaned up and kissed Castiel's forehead before looking down at the other boy. "Did you ever think that maybe your family might not have your best interests in mind?" he asked quietly.

Castiel's knee-jerk reaction was to shake his head, to tell Dean that his family knew what was best for him, but in all his life he could not remember one time his father asking what he, Castiel, wanted. He'd always done what was expected of him—aside from the one summer he'd spent with Dean—and like before with Dean, realized how unhappy he was. The truth was, he was tired of college applications and textbooks and safety schools and the incessant talk of Oxford, Oxford, Oxford and what his mother would have wanted. He was tired of his father only calling to find out how he was doing in school and if he'd given any more thought to an early graduation so he could start college early and get a head start on "making something of himself."

The thought of putting a stop to it all, being with Dean, doing things he really loved, was exhilarating and horrifying all at once. He knew very well the consequences of disobeying his father, of going against what he'd planned for Castiel all his life and he didn't want to be "that kid." His cousins Luc and Gabriel had been 'those kids,' and the family shunned them, disowned them, spoke poorly of them at every family gathering. They were the wayward ones, the ones who had brought disappointment to the family. Castiel did not want to be a disappointment to his family.

"Hey, Cas, where you at?" Dean asked and Castiel realized he'd lost himself in his own angst.

"Sorry," he said meeting Dean's eyes.

Dean shook his head. "Don't be sorry, Cas." Dean muttered, reaching out to brush a stray tuft of hair from Castiel's forehead, "Just be with me."

Castiel sighed and closed his eyes as Dean bent down to drop another kiss where the lock of hair had just been.

A silence settled between the two of them then, and Dean hated how even though he could feel Castiel so close to him, his body a sure weight underneath him, Cas still felt miles away. Dean squirmed a bit and buried his nose against Castiel's neck, pressing his lips to the soft skin there before breathing in deep, taking in and filling himself up with the scent of Castiel.

"How do I make this okay?" he murmured against the other boy's skin.

Cas pulled his arm tighter around Dean and sighed again, his breath puffing out and ruffling Dean's hair a bit. "It might never be okay," he finally answered before placing a kiss of reassurance to the top of Dean's head trying to convey that even if things weren't okay, there still might be a place for them somewhere in the world.

* * *

_"Cas, let's see who can go higher," Dean proclaimed as he maneuvered his butt into the seat of the swing and gripped the chains with either hand._

_Castiel took the swing next to him and began pumping his legs, "You're afraid of heights, Dean," he pointed out as Dean began swinging in tandem next to him._

_"Yeah, but swings are different."_

_Castiel began pumping hard in an attempt to get higher than Dean who was already flying through the air at an impressive height. Everything was fine until Dean looked down and saw the earth getting farther and farther away beneath him. It was then that he realized no, swings were not different._

_"Okay, Cas, you win," he said as he stopped pushing his legs through the air, but Castiel kept pumping. As Dean's swing stilled he watched Castiel glided back and forth, his legs thrown out lazily in front of him._

_"I dare you to jump out," Dean challenged and when Castiel leapt from his swing and soared through the air, Dean gasped, surprised the other boy had actually done it. Castiel landed in a graceful crouch in the woodchips and stayed that way for a minute, trying to catch his breath. When he stood, he brushed himself off and approached the swing Dean was on._

_"I've always wondered what it'd be like to fly," he admitted as he wrapped his hands around the chains above Dean's. Dean hooked his ankles around Castiel's calves and pulled him closer, their knees brushing together._

_"Dork," he said with a grin. Cas grinned back. They stared at each other for another moment before Dean spoke again."Hey, you wanna sleep over tonight? My dad set up our trampoline tent."_

_"I've never had a sleepover before," Castiel commented, pulling his eyebrows together._

_Dean didn't mention how that didn't surprise him. Instead he put an enthusiastic smile on his face and said, "Let's go ask Michael, you have got to see this thing, its epic."_

_As it turned out, Michael had left a few hours prior for an overnight business trip leaving Anna and Castiel to fend for themselves. When Castiel found out Anna was taking Michael's absence as an opportunity to spend the night at her friend Meg's, Castiel didn't think twice about packing a bag and walking back down the street to Dean's._

_Upon seeing Dean's trampoline tent,  Castiel was at first puzzled over what was so great about a big dome of poly cotton canvas covering the top of their trampoline. When he climbed inside though and saw the sleeping bags spread out next to each other and the pile of snacks and games Dean had set up beforehand, he felt like he might like the idea of a sleepover in a giant dome outside._

_Setting his things on one of the sleeping bags, Castiel looked over at Dean who was watching him with eyebrows raised in question._

_"So? Pretty cool, huh?" he asked._

_Cas nodded, "Pretty cool." He agreed._

_After it got too dark for Uno and they had stuffed themselves full of Nutter Butters and Oreos, the boys finally climbed into their sleeping bags to settle in for the night. As they lay in the dark, each lost in his own thoughts, Castiel contemplated how happy he felt when he was around Dean. Dean made him feel like a kid, which he was, but he actually felt it when he was around Dean. He liked feeling like a kid._

_"Do you like me, Cas?" Dean asked, pulling Castiel from his reverie._

_"Yes, Dean, you're a wonderful friend."_

_"Not like that you dork, I mean_ like me _like me," Dean tried to clarify. Castiel studied Dean's profile quietly for a few moments before responding._

_"Are you inquiring as to whether I like you more than as a platonic friend?" he asked and Dean scrunched his nose. He was pretty sure he knew what platonic meant so he nodded even though it was probably too dark for Cas to see._

_"Yeah."_

_"I don't-—" Castiel stared at the dome ceiling of the trampoline tent, "I don't know."_

_"Because it'd be okay if you did."_

_"It would?"_

_"Yeah, it'd be pretty cool, actually." Dean said rolling over to look at Cas. "I like having you around."_

_Cas smiled at him in the dark, and Dean could barely make out his teeth and the whites of his eyes._

_"Thank you, Dean. I enjoy being around you, too."_

_It was silent for a moment and then, "Good night, Cas." Castiel could tell Dean was smiling by the tone of his voice._

_"Good night, Dean." He replied smiling back._

 

_When no one called him home the next day, Castiel conceded to Dean's requests to stay. They spent the day in the den watching Battlestar Galactica and playing video games until their eyes glazed over._

 

_"I should go," Castiel stated when the sky outside dimmed and the chirping of crickets could be heard just outside the windows. He dropped his controller on the couch next to him and stretched his arms above his head. "I have a test I need to study for."_

_"A test?"_

_Castiel nodded, "At the beginning of school so they can determine where to place me."_

_"Want me to walk you half way?" Dean asked finding nothing about that to protest. Castiel nodded, the thought of spending even just a few more minutes with Dean sending his stomach into a happy flurry. They had been sneaking furtive glances and exchanging small, intimate touches all day. It was confusing and exciting and awkward, and Castiel found himself craving as much of Dean as he could get._

_He gathered his things, and the two boys set out into the night. When they got half way, Castiel turned suddenly and threw his arms around Dean's neck, pulling him into a tight hug. Before Dean could even register what was going on, Castiel had pulled away and was running towards his house._

_"See you later, Dean!" he shouted over his shoulder, his heart pounding in his chest and a smile on his face._

_Dean stood in a stunned silence, unable to respond._

_When his house came into view and Castiel saw his father's car in the driveway, his blood ran cold, and he hurried up the walk, afraid to go inside but having no other choice. Stepping through the door and looking around, he let out a sigh of relief when he didn't see his father anywhere. Perhaps he was in bed and Castiel could avoid speaking to him until morning. As he crept up the stairs as quietly as possible, he heard the faintest shuffle of papers and the familiar clearing of his father's throat._

_"Castiel?" he called out from his office. Castiel froze. He had been foolish to think his father would have been anywhere else. He hurried down the stairs and through the office doors to where his father sat behind his grand oak desk, a pair of bifocals perched on his pointed nose._

_"Did you have a nice time at your friend's house?" his father asked eyeing the backpack he still had slung over his shoulders. Castiel swallowed and nodded slowly._

_"Michael tells me you've been spending copious amounts of time with the boy down the street," he pulled his glasses off and studied Castiel in a scrutinizing manner. "Not falling behind on our studies, are we?"_

_Castiel shook his head. "School hasn't even started yet," he explained boldly, taking a page from Dean's book._

_"Are you sassing me?" Castiel's father asked, enraged amusement coloring his voice._

_Castiel shook his head frantically, "I only meant—"_

_"How's your Latin?" his father asked cutting him off, "Have you kept up with it as I've asked?"_

_"Yes, Father."_

_"Responde mihi Latine! (Respond to me in Latin!)" Castiel's father barked. Castiel jumped a little at the sudden outburst but quickly responded._

_"Scilicet, pater. (Yes, father.)"_

_"That's better. Now, I'm only in town for tonight, I leave for Berlin tomorrow morning, but while I'm gone I expect you to stay in line. No more dawdling with the boy down the street. Your friendship with him is inappropriate. No two boys should be spending that much time together. And aside from that, Castiel, he's a waste of time. How do you think your mother would feel if she knew you were wasting time rather than putting forth your best effort towards getting into Oxford?"_

_Castiel's eyes traveled to his shoes, and he did not respond to his father's questioning. The same lump that always formed when his father mentioned his deceased mother was back again, clogging his throat, making it hard to breathe._

_"You know all she wanted from you was for you to get into Oxford and make something of yourself. Do you feel as if spending time with the boy down the street will aid you in gaining the self-worth she wanted you to have?" Castiel's father's voice had lowered, and it resembled more of a growl than anything else. "Do you think if she were here she'd love you despite your rebelliousness?"_

_"No, Father," Castiel responded quietly. All the happiness he'd built up while at Dean's had been leached from him in a matter of minutes, and he was back to feeling small and resigned._

_His father studied him for a few minutes before shaking his head, "Don't disappoint me, Castiel," he said, "or your mother." There as another pause before he stated, "You will not see him again. Do you understand?"_

_"I understand," Castiel responded. As he turned to leave his father's office, his father's voice trailed behind him._

_"Oh and Castiel?"_

_Castiel turned back to face his father. He watched as the man brushed aside some papers on his desk revealing a spiraled notebook. When Castiel saw the cover, his heart dropped to his stomach._

_"I found this on the couch," his father said flipping it open and thumbing through the pages, eyeing the sketches with mild disgust. He paused on a page with Dean's profile sketched on it and shook his head. Castiel held his breath, his fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into the palms of his hands."You must have left it there when you used it last." When his father neared the end of the sketchbook, he closed it and fixed his cold grey eyes on Castiel's horrified gaze. "If I find another one of these in your possession again or hear that you've seen that boy again, I'll send you to live with your Aunt Naomi until you've learned how to behave. Do I make myself clear?"_

_Biting back a sob Castiel nodded, the fear of never being able to see Dean again far outweighing the threat of going to live with his aunt who had an affinity for brainwashing her children into beinding to her will._

_Satisfied he'd gotten through to Castiel, his father dropped the sketchbook into the wastebasket next to his desk and Castiel fled from his father's office, taking the stairs two at a time, his stomach roiling with each step. He dropped his backpack right inside the door of his bedroom and began stripping his clothes, leaving them behind him in a trail on the floor._

_When he finally reached his bathroom, naked and forcing back tears, he turned the shower on, forcing the knob towards HOT until steam rose into the air. Not bothering to turn on the light, Castiel stepped under the spray and scrubbed his skin until it turned red then sat on the slick porcelain floor of the tub and let the water beat into the back of his neck and shoulders until the stream turned cool and his flesh had pruned._

_Castiel had been lying awake in bed for hours when Anna pushed quietly into his room without knocking. She padded across the floor to his bed and sat herself across it, leaning her back against the wall so she could face her brother. His eyes flicked over to her and then back at the wall and neither of them spoke until Anna reached under her sweater and pulled out Castiel's sketchbook, laying it down in front of him._

_"I waited until Father went to bed and then pulled it out of his wastebasket," she admitted quietly._

_Castiel reached a hand from beneath the quilt and pulled the sketchbook to his chest, touched at Anna's thoughtfulness and bravery. If their father found out, she could be in far worse trouble than Castiel would be for having it again._

_"Thank you, Anna," he muttered. She offered him a sympathetic nod, and he didn't even need to ask to know that she'd received a similar scolding from their father when she'd arrived home from Meg's._

_"Just don't let him find it again," she advised. Castiel nodded, and Anna ruffled his still damp hair before pushing off the bed. She left as quietly as she had come, and Castiel was once again left alone, his thoughts trained solely on Dean._


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This a finished work. Please see posting schedule [here](http://castielsangelpeen.tumblr.com/post/50515068366/chalk-chainmail-posting-schedule).  
> Story beta'd by the Dean to my Cas, [literaryoblivion aka "Freckles"](http://literaryoblivion.tumblr.com)  
> Updates, deleted scenes, timestamps etc. can be found on my [tumblr](http://castielsangelpeen.tumblr.com).
> 
> *depictions of emotional abuse and anxiety disorder  
> 

Several days after their talk, Dean entered the library and pulled his eyebrows together at the sight of his and Cas's usual table painstakingly void of Castiel. He glanced around the library, his anxiety only easing when he saw the familiar crop of Cas's dark hair peeking just above one of the worn couches that faced the big window in the library.

Dean walked over and dropped his backpack in front of the couch and then slumped down next to Castiel.

"Hey, baby," he said trying out the pet name.

"Hey baby yourself," Castiel replied, his voice flat and unamused. He didn't look up from the text he was furiously tapping out with his nimble fingers, and Dean shook his head. _No to the pet names then_ , he thought.

"Why the couch?" he asked.

Castiel shrugged, "I'm tired of sitting at the table."  

"Easy enough," Dean commented then reached down and started to pull his chemistry book from his bag. The clearing of Cas's throat stopped him, and Dean looked over at the other boy, eyebrows raised.

"I, uh, thought we could not study today? I mean, if you need to it’s okay. I can help I just—"

Dean placed a hand gently on Cas's arm. Castiel clamped his mouth shut, and he stared at Dean with wide eyes. "We don't have to study today. That's fine. I didn't really have a whole lot that needs to be done anyway. What did you have in mind instead?"

Castiel swallowed hard before shrugging. "Can we go for a drive, maybe?" he asked.

Dean smiled and nodded at him. "Course."

 

As Dean maneuvered the Impala up the winding trail of the secluded hillside, he glanced over at Castiel. The other boy was watching the Lawrence landscape twist by as they drove, his shoulders held in a line of tension, and hands grasping his knees tightly.

"Cas, you okay?" Dean asked.

Castiel looked over at him almost startled as if he'd forgotten Dean was even in the car at all. "I'm perfectly fine, Dean. Why?"

"I don't know. You look—" Dean hesitated, "you look nervous."

"What would I be nervous about?"

Dean shrugged. "I dunno," he admitted 

"I'm fine, Dean, please just keep your eyes on the road."

 

Dean backed into a private overhang of trees and killed the engine. It was mere seconds before Castiel was scrambling across the seat and hoisting himself into Dean's lap. He fervently pressed his lips to Dean's and kissed him with an unbridled passion that seemed to come out of nowhere. As Dean fisted his hands in Castiel's messy hair, the other boy reached down the side of the seat and yanked at a lever, throwing the seat backwards. He pulled another, and the seat slid back giving him a little more room to maneuver around the steering wheel.

"Dean," Cas grated out as he pulled away and fastened his lips to the juncture where Dean's jaw began. He placed shaky hands on Dean's chest and kissed and bit his way down to Dean's collarbone. When Dean's tee got in the way, Castiel sat up and tugged at the hem. Dean got the hint and raised his arms, allowing Castiel to pull the shirt off. He watched as Cas stared down at his chest, heaving with gasps, Dean already breathless from Castiel's ferocity. The look in Castiel's eyes made Dean's stomach curl with unease, and he placed a hand gently to Cas's cheek.

"Hey, Cas, you okay?" he asked.

Castiel looked up at him—his eyes wild and broken—and nodded. He moved back in and bit lightly at Dean's collar bone before spattering his chest with kisses. Dean tugged him back up so that their lips met again, and he tried to slow Castiel down, offer a calming balm to the other boy's out-of-control intensity. It wasn't that Dean didn't want this from Castiel, he'd thought of nothing else too many times to count, but there was something off about the way Castiel was kissing him, something amiss in his eyes and the tremble of his hands.

Castiel began rutting against Dean, rolling and thrusting his hips against Dean's own, attempting to get them both hard in their jeans. Between that and the way he was tugging at Dean's ear with his teeth, it was definitely working. But when Castiel's hands went to Dean's belt buckle and Dean felt Cas's hands shaking as he fumbled with the metal clasp, Dean closed his hands over the other boy's.

"Cas, stop," he said firmly.

Castiel stilled, and his eyes finally met Dean’s.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked.

"I'm having sex with you, what do you think I'm doing, Dean?" Castiel asked as if Dean was the most obtuse person this side of the pacific.

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why? Don't you want to have sex with me, Dean?" Castiel asked canting his head to the side. Dean swallowed.

"Uh—" A 'yes' was clinging to the tip of his tongue ready to launch itself from between his lips, but Dean forced it down, "I do, but Cas, where you at? It's like you're just going through the motions; closing yourself off from me. What's up with that?"

"I just want to have sex, Dean. I don't understand what the big deal is. If you want it and I want it, why not? Don't you want to make me feel good?"

A wave of hurt crashed over Dean, and he was sure it showed on his face because Castiel sighed and looked away from him. Dean reached a hand up and caught Cas's chin between his fingers, guiding his gaze back to meet his own.

"Is that what this is about Cas? Is that why we're up here? You want me to fix you? To solve all your problems? You think my dick has some sort of magical healing powers and that if you have sex with me this will all just go away?"

Castiel remained painfully silent.

"Cas?" It was a plead, a supplication that Dean had misread Castiel's intentions.

"I don't know," Castiel finally muttered quietly, looking down at his hands as he toyed with Dean's belt loops.

Dean sighed and rubbed a hand over his face before letting it fall to Castiel's thigh. "Listen, Cas, you know I care about you. A lot. And that I really want to be with you. But, I can't keep doing this. I can't keep wondering if you feel the same. It's like one step forward, three steps back with you. And, I'm trying so hard to be patient and let you go through whatever it is you're going through, but I can't keep being with you without really being with you. I don't want to be something you 'just need to get out of your system'."

"Dean," Castiel started, and it sounded like a protest, so Dean didn't let him finish.

"I'm trying to bottom line it for you here, Cas," he said searching the other boy's eyes, "I do want to have sex with you, but I want that because I want to be with you in every way possible. And if it ever does happen, I want you to want it for that reason, too."

"I do want it for that reason," Castiel explained quietly, his blue eyes still evading Dean's gaze.

"Not today you don't."

Castiel didn't respond, and Dean put his hand back on the other boy's cheek, rubbing the pad of his thumb across Castiel's high cheekbone. "I _do_ want to make you feel good, Cas. All the time. And I do want to have sex with you. But I don't wanna do it unless we're together, okay?"

Castiel nodded, "Okay."

"Okay?" Dean asked, surprise coloring his voice, he had been unprepared for Castiel to be so quick to agree and the feeling that they were finally in understanding with each other settled warm and content within him.

"Yes, Dean. Okay."

A wide grin stretched across Dean's face then, and he pulled Castiel into a kiss, both hands on either side of the boy’s face. "Okay," he said again when they'd pulled apart. Castiel smiled back and shook his head, leaning in for another kiss.

"Okay."

*

When Dean saw Castiel at school the next day, a happy, excited feeling filled his body, and he knew he was smiling like a goon but he didn't care. He and Castiel were finally on the same page, and it felt good. Dean finally felt the relief he'd been waiting for for a long time.

Making a quick trip to his locker, Dean dropped off the books he didn't need before approaching Castiel who was near his own locker. Dean gave a polite nod to Balthazar, Hester, and Uriel who were debating about the outrageous cost of shipping taxes before leaning against the locker right next to Castiel's.

"Hey, Cas," he said with a smile.

Castiel looked up at him and offered a small smile of his own. "Hello, Dean," he answered. He closed his locker and began to turn away, but Dean reached out and wrapped a hand around Castiel's wrist, pulling him close and pressing his lips firmly against Castiel's.

It was only a split second; barely enough time for them to even connect. A sliver of a moment before Balthazar, Hester, and Uriel had fallen silent, eyes wide, mouths hanging open like a trio of fish, and that's when Dean felt himself being shoved into the locker behind him. When he looked at Castiel, a set of furious blue eyes glared back at him. It was only then, Dean realized, he and Castiel were definitely not on the same page. 

***

_Dean hurled another pebble at Castiel's window. Not hard enough to break it, but hard enough he knew Castiel would hear it on the other side. It was a good few minutes before the curtains pulled back, and Cas's figure filled the window. Dean smiled up at him, but the sentiment was only met with an apathetic gaze and then a closing of the curtains. Pushing aside Cas's strange behavior, Dean ran around the side of the house to meet Cas at the front door._

_Castiel was not at the front door._

_So, Dean waited._

_When he had waited what would have been plenty of time for Castiel to stop what he was doing and make his way downstairs to open the door for him, Dean raised a hand and knocked sharply a few times against the wood of the front door. It was another few minutes before the door finally opened, and Castiel stepped outside._

_"What do you want, Dean?" he asked folding his arms over his chest._

_"Took ya long enough, what were you doing up there?" Dean asked, ignoring Castiel's icy greeting._

_"Studying. I told you I have a test at the beginning of school. Were you not listening?"_

_Dean reached a hand out and placed it on his friend's shoulder like he'd done so many times before. But instead of Castiel relaxing under Dean's touch like he normally did, Castiel's body stiffened, his face a mask of annoyance._

_"Hey," Dean said, ducking his head a little so his eyes met with Cas's. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I was listening, I just forgot." When Castiel didn't unfold his arms or show any signs of relaxing, Dean offered him an apologetic smile. "Let's not fight, okay? You wanna take a break from studying? Go to the pool? It'll be fun." Dean ended in a sing-songy voice he knew sounded ridiculous but hoped sounded convincing also._

_"Fun is a waste of time, Dean," Castiel replied coolly. "_ You _, are a waste of time." Dean's hand dropped back to his side, and his green eyes—hurt apparent in them now—searched Castiel's face questioningly._

_"What'samatter, Cas? Why're you acting like this?"_

_"I'm acting no different than normal. I am, however, growing tired of this conversation. Did you need something important, or can I return to my studies?"_

***

"What the hell, Cas?" Dean demanded.

"What the hell is correct, Dean. What are you doing?" Castiel responded in a low, voice that had turned all feral and malice.

"I'm kissing you! What is that not allowed now? Have the rules changed since last night?" Dean asked, voice rising. He no longer cared that Castiel's friends were observing or that other students who could hear them were quietly gathering around them. Castiel's on-again, off-again was giving him whiplash, and he wanted once and for all to abolish the questions between them.

***

_Dean shook his head. This wasn't Cas. Sure sometimes getting Castiel to break his normal routine was a little difficult, but he was never outright rude about it. The more Dean looked at him, the more he felt like he didn't know the boy standing across from him at all. Where was the boy with the big innocent blue eyes that drank in the world like it was the first taste of water to his parched life? Where had the boy, who'd argued with Dean over whether peanut M &M's or plain M&M's were better, gone? Where was Cas? Where was _his _Cas?_

***

"I don't know what you're implying, Dean. When has it ever been okay to just walk up to me and kiss me?"

Now Dean's mouth was hanging open. "Cas?" It was the only thing he could say despite the fact that his head was swimming with questions. That one syllable took the place of the 'what's wrong,' 'why are you doing this again,' 'what can I do to make you understand' that he couldn't properly express, and he hoped to Heaven and Earth it said it all for him.

***

_"Cas, what's wrong?"_

_"My name is Castiel, Dean. And nothing is wrong; I just want to get back to what I was doing before you interrupted me."_

_Dean took a step back, still trying to dig for what had happened. Had he said something? Done something to offend Castiel? Was Cas not feeling well? Did he already have another friend over? Endless possibilities tumbled through Dean's mind as he grasped for any of them to make sense. When he moved forward again with his hand outstretched reaching for his friend, the friend he'd spent nearly every day with for the past two months, he had to be in this closed off Cas somewhere, Castiel flinched away from his touch and dropped his hands—that had still been crossed over his chest—to his sides, fists clenched in tight balls of annoyance._

***

Castiel didn't respond. His body was thrumming with anger, and his eyes were shooting daggers at Dean. Vehement daggers drenched in loathing and disgust. They pierced Dean and cut his skin and sliced through his bones, tearing at his heart as they buried themselves there.

"You said 'okay' last night!" Dean shouted, and Castiel's eyes darted to the hickeys he'd left on Dean's neck. Color rose to his cheeks, but that was the only reaction Dean's comment elicited.

"I meant 'okay, I understand' not 'okay, you're permitted to assault me in the hallways.'"

Hot tears rose in Dean's eyes and he hated himself for it, but Castiel's words were biting, tearing, incapacitating. " _Assault_ you?" Dean asked quietly, his voice cracking, his eyes laden with hurt. 

Castiel huffed a frustrated sigh and shook his head. "Dean, listen to me," he said reaching out to encircle Dean's wrist with his fingers, but Dean yanked his hand out of reach.

***

_"Don't touch me, Dean!" Cas shouted and Dean went reeling backwards at the outlash as if Castiel had actually shoved him. "You're just a distraction in my life! An interruption I don't need! Everything was fine before I met you, Dean! I don't need you as a friend! I don't want you as a friend! Just leave me alone!"_

***

"Don't touch me," Dean hissed, " _don't you dare touch me_." Dean was gathering up all the hurt, throwing it out and replacing it with an anger to match Castiel's own. "You can fuck off, Castiel," he bit out, " _I don't want you_."

At Dean's words, something broke in Castiel. His eyes clouded with a hurt he'd seen reflected in Dean's eyes just seconds before and his chest felt tight, restricted.

"Dean?" he gasped.

Dean stared at Cas, his face a mask of indignation.

***

_Tears blurred Dean's eyes and his head was spinning a little, but he was determined to find his friend and get him back. "Cas?" he croaked, his chest aching with the weight of Castiel's words._

_Castiel stood fuming, his chest heaving from his sudden burst of emotion, his jaw clenched tight._

_Dean was furious with himself for allowing himself to cry in front of Castiel. He was supposed to be cool and tough, but the tears making their way down his cheeks were blatantly betraying him. "Cas, I'm sorry!" he finally shouted, forcing his voice to not break over his sobs, "I didn't know! I thought you liked hanging out with me. I—" and not even his voice was going to cooperate anymore. It stopped short in his throat, and Dean wiped at his nose turning his gaze to the floor. "I thought we were friends," he finished quietly._

_Even though it was only a few seconds before Castiel spoke, it felt like days to Dean. Their friendship was hanging by a thread, and Castiel was the one holding the scissors. "I don't have time for friends, Dean. Please just—" he stopped then, something quivering in his eyes. He looked down at their shoes for a moment and when he looked back up, the quiver was gone, defiance back in the endless blue. "Leave me alone, Dean. I don't want to speak to you again."_

_Dean locked his eyes with Cas's, silently pleading for Castiel to snap out of whatever weird funk he'd fallen into and just be the kid he'd been all summer. But Castiel's eyes were stern. Serious. Final._

_Gathering up his pride, Dean squared his shoulders, nodded once in Castiel's direction and stepped off the Milton's front porch. As he walked away, he didn't look over his shoulder once._

***

Dean felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see Charlie standing beside him, as well as a good number of his and Castiel's peers that had surrounded them, curious of the outburst. Charlie's eyes were full of sympathy, and Dean slumped against the lockers a little, worn out from the tidal wave of emotions rolling through him.

"Dean, c'mon," Charlie said softly, tugging at Dean's hand. Dean nodded, took one last look at Castiel, who looked as if he'd been kicked in the gut, and then walked away, not bothering to look back.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This a finished work. Please see posting schedule [here](http://castielsangelpeen.tumblr.com/post/50515068366/chalk-chainmail-posting-schedule).  
> Story beta'd by the Dean to my Cas, [literaryoblivion aka "Freckles"](http://literaryoblivion.tumblr.com)  
> Updates, deleted scenes, timestamps etc. can be found on my [tumblr](http://castielsangelpeen.tumblr.com).
> 
> *depictions of emotional abuse and anxiety disorder  
> 

Watching Dean walk away for the second time in his life left a throbbing hurt deep inside Castiel. He felt Balthazar's hand on his shoulder, but he ignored it, couldn't bear the questioning look he knew he'd find skirting Balthazar's face. He hugged his books to his chest and walked away from everyone, didn't even turn back when Balthazar called out after him. He needed to get away, to be alone. To forget. 

He headed to his first class early and slumped into his chair, grateful none of his peers were overly eager to get to class before they absolutely had to, leaving him alone in the classroom. Staring at his hands, Castiel replayed over and over again Dean's final words. "I don't want you." And why _would_ he want Castiel? It was just like his father had said, "No one wants you for anything other than what you can offer them, Castiel. Make sure you have something to offer. Your mother would have wanted you to have something to offer." He couldn't offer Dean anything. Dean was happy and perfect and wonderful while Castiel was tired and sad and scared. What use was he to Dean if not to tutor him? None. 

Castiel rested his head on the flat, cool surface of his desk, focusing minutely on his breathing. _It's better this way_ , he told himself. _Dean doesn't want you. You can't have him anyway. It's better this way._ And Castiel hoped that if he said it enough, he'd start to believe it.

*

The way Dean avoided Castiel at school hurt. The office attendant let Castiel know he was no longer needed for tutoring, and it seemed Dean was planning his locker visits opposite of when Castiel would be around. In biology, the one class they shared, Dean acted as if Cas was non-existent. Castiel knew he deserved it, it's what he'd been doing to Dean for the past six years, but it still made his gut twist uncomfortably and he wished Dean would just look at him. Just once so he could offer an 'I'm sorry' with his eyes and move on.  But, Dean was stubborn if he was anything, and looking at Castiel for an apology did not seem to be in his repertoire.

*

As the weeks went on and Castiel repeatedly told himself _he doesn't want you, it's better this way_ , he began to adjust to the resigned feeling that filled him and took over most everything else. Things were starting to feel somewhat normal again; that is to say, they began to feel as they did before Dean had wormed his way back into Castiel's life, and Castiel threw himself back into his studies allowing himself to focus on only one thing: Oxford.

 

While Dean avoided Cas, Castiel avoided most everyone else. He didn't want to talk about what went down with Dean. Talking about it required thinking about it, and Castiel was doing well at not thinking about it. So, when Castiel saw Balthazar waiting for him at his locker, he tried to divert himself, but Balthazar hurried after him, grabbing on to the strap of his messenger bag and not waiting for Castiel to turn around before he spoke.

"Why are you doing this, Cassie? Why are you avoiding me? I'm not the one you had a showdown with in front of the entire school. It's me, your friend, Balthazar, remember? I'm on your side."

Castiel sighed and slowly turned to face Balthazar. He was right after all. "There aren't sides to be on Balthazar; it's done." 

"Is it?" Balthazar asked, studying Castiel's face intently. Castiel nodded. "I talked to him, you know," Balthazar informed him then, "I told him I thought he was a wanker for doing what he did. He asked about you." 

Castiel looked up at Balthazar then, butterflies coming alive in his stomach, "He did?" he asked. 

Balthazar nodded, "He asked if you were doing okay." Balthazar paused, looking at Castiel, studying his features before continuing, "Are you doing okay?"

"I'm fine." 

Balthazar sighed and pointed at Castiel's hands that were covered in chalk. He'd been leaving behind fingerprints on his face and clothes and any other surfaces he touched since the fall out with Dean. Drawing had always seemed to be the only thing that cleared his head, and his head, it turned out, needed a lot of clearing as of late. 

"I know chalk either means you're happy or upset," Balthazar pointed out. "Am I wrong to assume in this case it's the latter?" 

Castiel studied the floor intently. "I said I'm fine, Balthazar," he muttered. 

Balthazar sighed again and shook his head. "I don't know how you do it, Cassie." 

"Do what?" 

"Accept how unhappy you are." 

"I'm not unhappy," Castiel grumbled. It was one of those things he'd been telling himself since his and Dean's fight, but unlike _he doesn't want you_ and _it's better this way_ , _I'm not unhappy_ just wasn't sinking in. 

Balthazar took either side of Castiel's face in his hands and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to his lips and then his forehead before pulling him into a tight hug, one of Balthazar's hands cradling Castiel's head, the other wrapped protectively around his waist. "Yes," Balthazar murmured into his hair, "you are."

It was at that moment, with Castiel's head resting on Balthazar's chest, his hands clinging desperately to the comfort of his best friend, that Castiel looked over and saw Dean staring at them, mouth hanging open, pain etched deeply in his expression. Of all the times Dean could choose to pay Castiel some mind, of course it had to be then.

 

Castiel finally caught up with Dean just as he was wrenching the Impala's driver's side door open and throwing his backpack onto the passenger side seat.

"Dean!" Castiel called, "Dean, would you wait?!"

"Wait for what, Cas?" Dean asked, whirling to face Castiel. He crossed his arms over his chest and quirked an eyebrow, waiting for Castiel's response.

Castiel came to a stop near the hood of the Impala, pulling at the strap of his messenger bag adjusting the weight of his books. When he didn't respond, Dean sighed and shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

"Just give it to me straight, Cas. You been doing that with Balthazar the whole time we've been..." he didn't know how to end his question. He and Cas had never been anything official, but Dean had at least had the decency to call off his usual Casanova tendencies during that time. It seemed Castiel, on the other hand, had not.

"Dean, it wasn't what it looked like. Balthazar is one of my dearest friends. I've told you before, there is nothing going on between us. He's concerned about me is all. He was just expressing that concern."

Dean snorted and shook his head. "Dudes don't just go around kissing other dudes out of concern, Cas."

"He's British, Dean! It's quite customary for them to show affection differently than Americans! Why does it even matter?" As soon as the words left Castiel's mouth, he realized it sounded hypocritical of him to say seeing as he'd just chased after the one person he'd been working so hard to forget about.

"Why are we even having this conversation?" Dean asked, his voice going quiet and resigned. "Why are you talking to me at all?"

"I don't know," Castiel admitted, looking at the ground. "I just," he sighed, "I wanted to make sure you weren't upset about Balthazar."

Dean studied Castiel's face even though it hurt to do so. He'd figured the best way to recover from Castiel's most recent rejection was to cut the other boy out of his life completely, to move on and act as if nothing had ever happened. But when he'd seen Balthazar kiss Castiel, Dean reached a whole new level of not-okay. "I'm upset about a lot of things, Cas," he finally stated, "and now I can add him to the list."

"Don't, it was nothing."

"I just don't understand why he can kiss you in public and it doesn't matter, but when I do it you claim I'm assaulting you. I'm gonna be honest with you, Cas, that's pretty low even for you." 

Castiel flinched, Dean's words cutting through him, shedding light on what Dean really thought of Castiel's character. He pushed the comment aside and explained, "Dean, like you said, it doesn't matter. Balthazar doesn't matter. _You_ matter. Too much sometimes, actually," Castiel looked at the ground then, his voice going quiet and apologetic, "And I didn't mean what I said about you assaulting me."

"It still hurt," Dean admitted then corrected himself, "hurts."

Castiel sighed. For the past few weeks, his plan had been to rid himself of all feelings for Dean, but now that the other boy was standing right in front him, giving him the time of day at all, he now thought maybe, just maybe he had a chance of righting his wrongs. He fixed his gaze with Dean's green eyes that looked almost golden in the sun and asked, "How can I make it better, Dean? How can I fix what I've done? How do I make you not angry about this?" 

Dean studied Cas for a few moments, a hardness creeping back into his gaze. Each time he felt Castiel was moving closer to understanding, the kid ended up way off mark. "That's why you're out here? You want me to not be pissed about Balthazar?" Dean grumbled, "Fine. I'm not pissed about Balthazar. There. You can go study now or whatever."  He ducked into the cab of the Impala and closed the door behind him pointedly not looking at Castiel again.

Castiel watched Dean drive away, his fists curled at his sides and a heavy, sinking feeling in his gut. He felt even farther away from Dean than he ever had in the past six years.

*

Castiel stood in the hallway that ran between his, Michael's, and Anna's rooms. Their father almost never ventured upstairs, and so, the Milton children had peppered the walls with what few photographs they had of their mother. To have them anywhere else in the house was forbidden. 

Michael and Anna often paused in the hallway to glance wistfully at the photos on the wall, but Castiel, who remembered their mother the least, rarely did. It was discomforting for him to look at the photos. They were too happy, his mother's face too bright in contrast to the feeling that now shrouded the Milton home. Aside from that, Castiel felt as if, when studying the pictures, he was trying to force himself to remember someone else's memories. He himself was only in a select few of the photos, his mother having died when he was only three, and he felt like he'd always carry a part of her with him, but he had never really known her. Not even Anna had known her like Michael and their father had but even her memories of their mother were more solid than Castiel’s.

As Castiel studied his mother's vivid blue eyes that were reminiscent of his own and her face stretched wide around a smile, something stirred within him. It wasn't the resonation or recognition he'd been grasping at all his life but rather realization. For the first time in his entire life, Castiel realized he was trying to make someone proud who'd never really existed for him in the first place. Someone he'd never gotten the chance to know or love, whose memory he never had the opportunity to hold on to. All his life he'd heard about what his mother would have wanted and because he hadn't known any better and believed it'd make his father happy, he'd gone along with it thinking it really was what his mother would have wanted. His father had been telling him since he was four that if Castiel didn't want to disappoint his angel mother, he'd have to prove himself by being smart and successful. And everyone had gone along with that. Everyone, that is, except Dean Winchester. Dean, in the short times he and Castiel had spent together, had always made Castiel feel like more than just someone who was good at school. When he was around Dean, he felt that maybe, even if he didn't get accepted to Oxford, his life might still be worthwhile. The sinking knowledge that he'd pushed away the one person he truly wanted to be a part of his life and would accept him no matter who he was settled heavy on Castiel's chest, and the weight of what he'd done, who he'd given up, came crashing down on top of him.

Suddenly the hallway seemed too small, the air too thin, and Castiel dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around his sides and sucking in as much air as his lungs could hold. As he sat hunched over on the ground realizing he'd been chasing his father's pipedream for the last 13 years of his life and in doing so pushed away someone he cared so much about, all the walls he'd so carefully constructed around him, any sort of stability he thought he possessed, came crumbling down around him, and he was left gasping in the shambles.

It was then that Anna's bedroom door swung open, and she stepped out into the hall to investigate the noises she'd heard.

"Castiel?" her voice sounded echoey and distant in his ears. She dropped down next to him and placed a hand lightly on his back.

"Anna," Castiel croaked, as he barely registered she was even beside him, "what have I done?"

"What are you talking about? What's the matter?" Anna's voice was frantic, and she shook Castiel when he didn't answer.

Castiel's breath was coming out in short sporadic bursts, and his skin felt like it was crawling, retreating from his body leaving him a mess of muscle and bone and blood.

As his vision filtered in and out and his lungs began to feel like they were going to burst, Castiel reached out and grasped Anna's shirt in his fist, dragging himself to her and wrapping his arms, vice like, around her neck.

"I've ruined everything," he muttered between gasps, his heart feeling as if it were trying to leap from his chest.

Hands rested on his back, and the coolness of them seeped through Castiel's shirt, calming him ever so slightly. Anna began to rock him back and forth like a child, holding him closely to her, pushing a hand through his hair every so often until he was able to calm down a bit. Finally, she was pulling him up off the floor and across the hall into her bedroom, closing the door behind them. She lead Castiel over to her bed and sat down with her back at the headboard, legs stretched out in front of her. Castiel laid himself down next to her, resting his head in her lap and throwing an arm over her legs. He suddenly felt sluggish and sleepy, his panic attack having drained all his energy.

"You okay?" she asked. "You haven't had an attack like that since you were little. What happened?"

"I ruined everything, Anna," he muttered again, quietly this time, closing his eyes when he felt his sister's long fingers brush gently through his hair.

"Ruined what, Castiel?"

He hesitated before responding, "It's complicated, Anna," he said, "just everything."

Anna's fingers stilled for a moment, and then she asked quietly, "Is this about Dean Winchester?"

There was a pause before Castiel responded, "Why would this be about Dean?"

Anna's voice was still quiet as if she was treading lightly around Castiel's emotional stability, "I saw him kiss you in the hall a few weeks ago," she admitted. "I didn't want to say anything, mostly because I wasn't sure what was going on; Dean is always kissing on everyone, I thought that was just more of the same. But when I saw the way you reacted and how you've been the past few weeks, I wondered if maybe there was something more."

"There was," Castiel admitted, "but I was too scared," he explained before adding, "and now it's too late."

"Why is it too late?"

"Dean hates me," Castiel muttered against Anna's leg, and he closed his eyes again, just wanting to sleep and wake up when it was all over. "And father would be furious. We've had this discussion once before, how improper it is for boys to like other boys. Especially Dean."

"Father's a dick, Castiel," Anna declared, her voice sharp with venom. "He's controlling and closed minded and miserable, and he wants everyone to be miserable just like him. Isn't there anything you want outside of what Father demands of you?"

At that, Castiel sat up and looked at Anna, studied the harsh lines of her scowl, the fire in her eyes. "You go along with what he says, too," Castiel pointed out.

A wicked grin grew on her face, and she shook her head, "No, Castiel, I don't. I've been going against his will for years now, I've just kept it quiet."

Castiel pulled his eyebrows together, trying to recall a time Anna had showed signs of disobedience. None came to mind. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Anna offered her brother a soft, apologetic smile, "I was protecting you. If you didn't know what I was doing, Father couldn't interrogate you for answers."

Castiel studied the comforter on Anna's bed, pulling at a strand of yarn that had come loose from where it was tied into the quilt. Anna reached out and placed her hand on Castiel's cheek, raising his gaze to meet hers.

"Does Dean make you happy?" she asked him. There was no hesitation in his answering nod.

"Then, you need to fix things."

"I don't know how," Castiel admitted. Anna offered him another gentle smile.

"You're smart," she said, "you'll figure it out."

 

A few days later and with a little help from an insider source, Castiel did figure it out. He only hoped it would work.

*

"So I told the Fandom Club to meet outside at lunch today so we can show you what we came up with for our entrance to the LARPing finals this weekend," Charlie explained as she and Dean made their way down the hall to their second period classes. "It's a dress rehearsal so everyone will be in costume, you too."

"I don't understand why we need an 'entrance,’" Dean whined. "It's not the Quidditch World Cup."

"What's wrong with having an epic entrance to strike fear in the hearts of your opponents and buoy the spirits of your warriors?" Charlie asked with an easy air. "And how is an entrance much different from your compelling speech last week that gave us the vigor to make it to the LARPing finals in the first place?"

Dean rolled his eyes and slipped his hands around the straps of his backpack, "That was from Braveheart; of course, it was compelling."

"Dean, just please say you'll be there. If you don't like what we've got, we can make changes. But as the co-chair of this club, it's your duty to be a part of this."

Dean sighed. What Charlie said was true, but Dean wasn't really feeling up for dealing with the crazy that tended to follow the Fandom Club at the moment. He wanted to decline, to tell Charlie he trusted her decision and that she could take care of this one on her own, but instead he found himself saying, "Fine. I'll be there."

"In costume?" Charlie asked with an eyebrow cocked, "Chainmail and all?"

"Chainmail and all," Dean grumbled.  

"Great!" she shouted excitedly, "You'll need these." She handed him a piece of paper with some lines scribbled on it. "And I'll see you at lunch!" And then in a blur of red hair and wide smile, she was gone.

 

Dean stood under the large tree in the school's side yard waiting for his cue as he'd been instructed by Charlie. He tugged at the faux chainmail around his neck and shifted on his feet nervously, feeling incredibly exposed and very in the dark. A few students were gathering around, watching him, waiting for something to happen. The LARPing crew had done a few "shows" like this before to try and recruit more people, so the other students anticipated something was about to happen. All the times before Dean had always known what was going on. This time all he knew is he had some sort of lines (which he hadn't looked at since Charlie had thrust them into his hand) he was supposed to recite and that the Fandom Club was milling somewhere nearby waiting for the right moment to swoop in and impress Dean.

When the screech of the intercom came on and the office attendant asked Ronald Reznick to please report to the office, Dean looked around, pulling the lines from the pocket of his pants. That had been his cue.

"Uh," he began loudly studying the paper, "where have all the good men gone and where are all the Gods? Where's the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds?" Dean paused, furrowing his brow, "Are these Bonnie Tyler lyrics?" he asked looking around for someone he recognized to answer.

The only response he got was one of his classmates hissing, "Louder!" at him.

Dean pushed on, louder this time. "Isn't there a white knight, upon a fiery steed?"

Off in the distance, the sound of hoofbeats and trumpets echoed off the cement walls of the school. Dean looked up towards the sound but saw nothing. He continued reading, "I need a hero, I'm holding out for a hero till the end of the night. He's gotta be fast and he's gotta be strong and he's gotta be fresh from the fight."

The sound of hooves was coming closer, and Dean could make out Charlie, donned in her LARPing uniform, carrying a flag with their school's crest on it. Across from her was Balthazar, also dressed in LARPing gear, carrying a similar flag, and between them were several members of the Fandom Club beating together coconut shells to create the clipped sound of horse's hooves prancing across the pavement outside. At this, Dean grew even more confused. Since when had Balthazar joined the Fandom Club? And why was Dean beginning to feel set up?

"Keep going!" a girl to the side of Dean urged eagerly. She wore a big grin on her face, clearly missing the part where Dean felt uncomfortable as shit. But, he had promised Charlie he'd participate so, he kept reading.

"I need a hero. I'm holding out for a hero till the morning light. He's gotta be sure and he's gotta be soon and he's gotta be larger than life."

By this time, Dean could see clearly what was happening. Trailing behind Charlie, Balthazar, and the Fandom Club members that had been assigned as horses, strode Castiel, decked in chainmail and a white knight's tunic. A leather strap was slung around his hips, and a LARPing sword swayed to the side of him where it was tucked into the leather strap. He had on riding boots over tight leather chaps and long leather arm cuffs on each wrist, and if Dean had seen anything hotter in his entire life, he couldn't remember it. Behind Castiel were a few members of the marching band, the tune to Holding out for a Hero by Bonnie Tyler blasting out of their trumpets, and even they were dressed like LARPers. Dean was suddenly having an incredibly difficult time breathing and felt a little as if he'd stepped into a scene from Glee (which he absolutely had never watched). Nonetheless, he couldn't keep the grin from his face.

When Charlie and Balthazar stepped to either side of Dean, the coconut hoofbeats stopped as did the trumpets. Castiel made his way majestically through the other students with all the air of a real knight, his face a stony calm that Dean didn't expect. Approaching Dean, he knelt on one knee and cleared his throat, the only indication that he might be just as nervous as Dean. The trumpets started up again but quieter this time, with a tune Dean recognized as Aerosmith’s Angel.

"I'm alone. I don't know if I can face the night. I'm in tears, and the crying that I do is for you. I want your love. Let's break the walls between us," Castiel looked into Dean's eyes with an open, vulnerable expression, and Dean choked back emotion he refused to let loose as it would nullify his first rule of manhood: you don't cry over rock-and-roll.

"Dude, are you quoting Aerosmith to me?" Dean asked pushing a grin to his face.

"Don't make it tough. I'll put away my pride. Enough's enough. I've suffered, and I've seen the light. Baby, you're my angel, come and save me tonight. You're my angel, come and make it all right." Castiel made the rock-and-roll sound like lover's poetry the way it trilled off his tongue, his voice a deep rumble, pushing through Dean and finding a home in his bones, melting the anger and pain he'd been carrying around with him for weeks. Years, really. And suddenly, Castiel was too far away, too not wrapped up in Dean's arms. Dean reached down and wrapped his hand around Castiel's wrist and tugged him up. Twining an arm around his waist, Dean pulled Castiel close, placing his other hand on Castiel's cheek.

"Cas?" Dean asked, waiting for permission this time before getting lost in a public display of affection.

Castiel smiled a small smile and pushed forward, meeting Dean half way with his lips. Dean's hand went from Castiel's cheek to his hair, and he tangled his fingers in the locks at the base of Castiel's head, Castiel throwing his arms around Dean's neck and kissing back with an assured ferventness Dean had been waiting for for years. When they pulled apart, only fractionally because neither of them were ready to let go, Castiel continued quoting the song against the side of Dean's mouth, his cheekbones, his forehead.

"Don't know what I'm going to do about this feeling inside. Yes, it's true, loneliness took me for a ride. Without your love, I'm nothing but a beggar. Without your love, a dog without a bone. What can I do, I'm sleeping in this bed alone."

Castiel moved his lips to only a sliver away from Dean's ear and whispered the last line, "come and save me tonight," and then their lips were locked again, and the small crowd that had gathered was cheering and Dean wondered if this is what it felt like to be in some teen chick flick. Not that he'd ever seen one. But allegorically speaking.  

When they pulled apart again, Dean rested his forehead on Cas's, unable to keep the aching grin off his face. Sure there were still things he and Cas needed to work out, talks neither of them wanted to have, issues that needed to be brought to attention, but for here and now, Dean was happy. Satisfied. Castiel had made the grand gesture, and Dean wasn't going to blink an eye at accepting it.

"I love you, Cas," Dean said running a hand through Cas's hair again just because he was allowed. Castiel huffed out a small laugh.

"I know," he responded.

Dean raised his head from Cas's and looked into Castiel's blue eyes. They looked lighter than he'd ever seen them. "Did you just Han Solo me?" he asked, his eyebrows shooting to his hairline.

From off to the side, Charlie sniggered, "I told you, you were the princess."

Dean gave her his best bitchface before turning back to Castiel and tangling their fingers together because princess or not, Dean had every intention of riding off into the sunset with his prince.


	11. EPILOGUE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this seems like it may be the end, but it's not. Please see the notes at end of chapter.  
> Story beta'd by the Dean to my Cas, [literaryoblivion aka "Freckles"](http://literaryoblivion.tumblr.com)  
> *depictions of emotional abuse and anxiety disorder  
> The beautiful graphics you see at the end of the fic were created by the absolutely wonderful [Hannah (aka fallencassbutt).](http://fallencassbutt.tumblr.com) Go show her some love!

When Dean dropped Castiel off at his house after school, he did not expect to be invited inside. But when Castiel opened the car door and then slowly turned back and asked shyly, "Would you like to come in?", Dean didn't even need to think twice about turning off the Impala and jumping out.

He followed Castiel inside, trailed him up the stairs and into Castiel's bedroom. As soon as the bedroom door was closed, Dean had Castiel crowded up against it, kissing him and pushing himself firmly against Castiel.

Castiel kissed back for a few moments before gently pushing Dean away. "Dean," he said as Dean moved his lips to the lightly stubbled underside of Castiel's jaw.

"Mmmm?"

"Dean, I want to give you something," Castiel tried to explain, his brain a little foggy from Dean's lips on his skin. As good as Dean's ministrations felt, and as much as Castiel wanted them, he'd asked Dean in for a reason, and it was important enough to him to hold off on the physical contact for a few minutes.

Dean continued kissing at Castiel's jaw and neck, and so Castiel pushed at Dean's shoulders again until the other boy looked at him.

"Please, Dean, it's—" he paused, his nerves coming alive beneath him with Dean's green eyes fixed solely on him, "it's important." He finally stated.

Dean smiled and placed a gentle kiss to Castiel's lips before saying, "Okay."

Castiel offered Dean a small smile before instructing him to sit on the bed. Dean obeyed and Castiel went to digging through a drawer in his desk before producing a spiral bound sketchbook. He clutched it to his chest protectively and joined Dean on the bed.

They sat across from each other with their legs folded up underneath them, and Dean kept half a smile on his face as he watched Castiel fidget under his gaze, toying with the spiral of the sketchbook. Finally, he held it out to Dean, his eyes trained carefully on the cover. "I want you to have this," he explained.

Dean took the sketchbook, his eyes filling with disbelief, and his face falling to a frown. "Cas, are you sure? I know your art is private to you."

Castiel nodded. "I always meant for it to be for you," he answered.

Dean ran his fingers respectfully across the cover and looked back up to Cas, "Can I look inside?" he asked.

Castiel huffed a laugh before responding, "Of course, Dean."

Dean flipped the sketchbook open. The first page was a drawing of Castiel's house, with Castiel's eleven-year-old scrawl at the top of the page reading, New House, Lawrence, Kansas. Dean looked up at Castiel, his eyes wide and questioning. "Is this from that summer?" he asked.

Castiel nodded, and Dean smiled at him. He moved himself to sit up against the wall and tugged Castiel up next to him so they could look at the pages together. As Dean flipped through sketches of him and Castiel together, park swings, and video game controllers, Castiel rested his head on Dean’s shoulder, still feeling nervous at having exposed himself so freely to Dean. Along with most of the sketches were Castiel's thoughts scribbled somewhere on the page. Notes of what that summer was like for Castiel. Some of it was meaningless, like a reminder to himself not to eat red popsicles around Dean because he'll laugh at the red ring around your mouth written on a sketch of a melting popsicle and Dean's head thrown back in laughter. Dean chuckled at some of the more frivolous notes that were similar to that one, but when he found a page with his own smiling face sketched onto it and the words, _Dean Winchester may be the best thing that's ever happened to me_ written below, Dean turned his head to look at Castiel.

Castiel lifted his head from Dean's shoulder and stared back at him. "I still feel that way," he admitted quietly.

Dean reached across and intertwined their fingers and raised their conjoined hands to drop a soft kiss to Castiel's knuckles before asking, "Then why did you push me away?" It was probably the wrong question to ask, especially since he and Cas finally seemed to be getting things right for a change and everything was so brand new, but Dean had to know. If Castiel had felt so deeply for him why had he pushed Dean out of his life? He prepared himself for Castiel not to answer or to pull away, take the sketchbook back and ask Dean to leave, but he did none of those things. Instead he reached over and flipped to the last fully used page of the notebook.

"You haven't reached the end yet," he stated.

Dean looked down to the page. No drawings were there only words written in a fine tipped Sharpie.

_Father said I'm not to speak to Dean ever again. He said our friendship is not appropriate and that Dean is a waste of time. I didn't feel as if I was doing anything wrong by being Dean's friend, but after what father said, I feel ashamed of myself. Maybe he is right. Perhaps my feelings towards Dean were inappropriate. When I told him to go away he probably realized how uncomfortable I made him feel all the time and was probably relieved to no longer have to be around me. It makes sense now as to why he walked away so easily. He realized I'm worthless because I haven't made anything of myself yet. Just like father always says._

The words continued, _Father also threw my scketchbookaway. Anna stole it back for me, but I don't feel like sketching anymore._ _  
_

_I miss Dean._

On the pages that followed there were only faint lines and scribbles, beginnings of sketches left unfinished and the words over and over again, _I miss Dean_.

Dean closed the sketchbook and looked over at Castiel whose face was solemn and unsure. Dean's heart had clenched so tight he felt it might stop pumping, and his stomach was uneasy, rolling with anger at Castiel's father, sadness for eleven-year-old Castiel, and irritation at himself for never having wondered how their falling out had affected Castiel. Wrapping a hand around the back of Castiel's neck, Dean fixed their eyes together.

"I have never thought you were worthless," he growled, pushing down as best he could all the emotions that were stirring up inside of him, "or inappropriate. And you never made me feel uncomfortable for the way you were when we were kids. Do you understand me?"

Castiel nodded, and Dean pushed him down onto the bed then, straddling Castiel's hips and pushing at his shoulders to hold him in place. They stared at each other for no short amount of time before Dean bent down and began to kiss his devotion into Castiel's skin.

"I loved you, then," he murmured against Castiel's neck before moving to drop a kiss on his nose and then nuzzle his cheek, "and I love you now." He removed his hands from Castiel's shoulders and pushed the palms of both their hands together, linking their fingers before leaning down again. His face was just inches from Castiel's. "And if I have to tell you that every day for the rest of our lives to make you believe it, I promise you, I will."

 

In later days and months that eventually stretched on into years, Castiel came to learn just how serious Dean was at making good on his promises.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, thank you all for reading and commenting and giving kudos. I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart. This story has been my baby for the past few months and the road has been quite an interesting one. This is my first official finished work ever and I've been so excited to share it with everyone. So again, thank you for reading.  
> Secondly, I need to give the biggest of big thank yous to my beta, ["Freckles"](http://literaryoblivion.tumblr.com). Without her diligent enthusiasm in the story I would have quit a long time ago. I owe her infinite thanks for being so patient and for talking me through it all and listening to me gripe and bitch about how horrible the story was. And another million thank yous for never rolling her eyes when, once a week I told her I was giving up. She pushed me through it, gave superb advice and a lot of my favorite scenes were her brainchildren so I mean it when I say, you should thank her for this. All I did was put the words on the page. 
> 
> Okay. Now that I've gushed, time for some housekeeping: I have multiple deleted scenes in the works as well as numerous time stamps planned and would love for you to get to see what else is in store for these guys. Updates can be found on my [tumblr](http://castielsangelpeen.tumblr.com). THANK YOU.


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